


To Recognise a Golden Moment

by la_choo (melonbutterfly)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-30
Updated: 2009-12-30
Packaged: 2017-10-14 05:47:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 35
Words: 85,312
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/146039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/melonbutterfly/pseuds/la_choo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After an unfortunate accident which, aided by a foolish plan, leads to another unfortunate incident, Draco Malfoy is left to deal with the results and must at the same time try to sort out himself and his life.</p><p>This is set in an AU world where Draco, after getting his task from Voldemort in sixth year, goes to Dumbledore for help. He then actively helps Dumbledore and his side, spending the holidays at Grimmauld Place because his parents rejected him, and Harry kills Voldemort at the end of his sixth year. Draco then spends his seventh year being ignored by most everyone; the Slytherins because he is a 'traitor' and everyone else because, well, he's Draco Malfoy.<br/>This is the story of him after school, beginning at the end of seventh year, and his trying to find his own path, to build his own life without trying to wipe out the past, but dealing with it.<br/>And, of course, there is this little problem he has.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue - Draco's Journal

**Author's Note:**

> _Life has no other discipline to impose, if we would but realize it, than to accept life unquestioningly. Everything we shut our eyes to, everything we run away from, everything we deny, denigrate, or despise, serves to defeat us in the end. What seems nasty, painful, evil, can become a source of beauty, joy, and strength, if faced with an open mind. Every moment is a golden one for him who has the vision to recognize it as such._
> 
> \- Henry Miller (1891 - 1980)

His arms full of books he had lent Madam Pince and gotten back today, Draco hurried down the corridors of Hogwarts, heading for the dungeons. Somehow packing was a lot harder if you knew you'd never come back, and he had never known he had so many possessions scattered all over the castle. His broom and Quidditch uniform down by the pitch, books at Madam Pince's and Professors Vector, Snape and McGonagall, potion ingredients and brewing tools at Professor Snape's, some extraordinary good essays at various professor's that had requested to keep them for a while and various odds at several teacher's. Of course, if he forgot something he could always come back later to get it, but he wanted to leave for good when he left and not come back every few days to collect something.

It was because he was occupied with mentally checking his list of books he had lent out that he didn't hear the steps coming down the corridor, and so when he turned the corner, he ran straight into someone, toppling them both over and dropping everything in his arms.

"Get- off-" Someone unceremoniously shoved him off them and he landed on the cold stone floor. Blinking in disorientation, he looked at the person he had run over and almost groaned in annoyance.

Potter. Accompanied by his personal Weasel and Granger, with whom he had gotten along better at the start of the year until he became aware that she was keeping their almost-friendship a secret and was mortified that someone could find out she was talking to him civilly, and he had thrown her out, metaphorically speaking. He certainly didn't need to talk to someone who was embarrassed to be seen with him.

The weasel's face twisted into a mask of contempt and anger. "Malfoy!"

Draco narrowed his eyes and got up, dusting his robes off. "Very good, Weasel, you can say two-syllable-words already, your mother must be so proud."

The weasel snarled, but before he could say anything Potter stood up, looked around demonstratively and said "Looks like you lost something, Malfoy" in that amused, dismissing tone he always used with Draco nowadays.

Not showing any outward reaction, Draco took out his wand, sneered at them for tensing and reaching for their own, and summoned his books. "It was very nice to chat with you, but some of us actually have something more useful to do than handing out autographs all day." Not putting his wand away, Draco continued into the direction he had been heading, very aware of their stares in his back and the fact that they all had their wands out. He was very alert for any whispered spells or the soft, almost noiseless swish of one slicing through the air, directed at him, but it seemed they still had enough Gryffindor in them not to hex someone who had their back turned.

Ten minutes later found Draco in the dorm, putting his books on the bed and sighing. He was glad he had started checking for his things early so now he only had to pick them up; it was half a week before their leaving party, followed by the leaving feast the next day, and he was about finished. He had packed most of his possessions already, safe the things he'd need the following week including his dress robes for the party. It was going to be bigger than usual because it was a joint party of the regular seventh years and the additional students that had been unable to attend their seventh year because of the war, plus all their relatives and anyone they wanted to attend. It was going to be quite crowded, he mused.

Sorting his books into his third trunk that so far contained only books and probably would still contain only books when closed, he thought he had almost all of them, safe-

Freezing, Draco dropped the book he had been holding and spread the ones he had taken back from Madam Pince on the bed, looking for a small black journal.

It wasn't there.

But he knew he had gotten it back from her, Madam Pince had commented on it while giving it to him, and he had smiled and put it on top of his stack, re-securing the safety wards while talking to her-

And then he had run into Potter, and his books had scattered all over the floor, and so occupied with controlling himself and the situation, he hadn't checked whether it was there when he left. Growing desperate, he tried accio'ing it, but nothing happened.

It wasn't there.

Balling his hands into fists, Draco came to the one possible conclusion: Potter had it.


	2. Chapter 1 - Delia Shelley

The party was boring, Harry decided. He was standing in the Great Hall near where Madam Pomfrey handed out the punch as if it were valuable medicine, sipping at his glass and watching the crowd.

The most important things were done already; the ceremony, the handing out of their leaving certificates, the snack-buffet-raiding, the getting re-acquaintanced with the Weasleys, who were present to the last brother. It seemed they all enjoyed seeing Hogwarts again and had wandered off to visit their favourite places; Charlie to the Quidditch pitch and Hagrid's hut, and right now he was most likely wandering through the Forbidden Forest. Bill and Fleur had left already; Fleur was in her fifth month and they couldn't travel by magical means anymore, meaning they rarely left their cottage close to London for longer trips. Percy was talking to some poor sod who hadn't managed to safely retreat fast enough, most likely boasting about his job in the ministry and being his usual annoying self. Fred and George were off on some mission Harry didn't want to know anything about, Ginny was getting to know Dean's family that was almost as big as hers, and Hermione, Ron, the Grangers and the Weasleys were wandering around, showing Hermione's parents around Hogwarts. They had asked if Harry wanted to come along, but he had waved them off, knowing there was no place for him when the families of the two new fiancés met, and the fact that they already knew each other didn't change that.

Most people were busy with their families, showing them Hogwarts or their friends, and while Harry didn't feel left out or anything – how could he, being practically adopted by the Weasleys? – he just didn't feel like a part of them.

"Hey."

Harry blinked and stared at the blond girl, maybe an inch smaller than he, with blueish eyes and pale skin. She seemed faintly familiar, but he didn't know why – at least he was sure she was no member of Fleur's family, because he knew all of those.

"Uh, hi," he replied, wondering why she was talking to him.

"You looked a little bored, and I was bored myself, so I thought we might as well be bored together."

Harry smiled. She was charming, but not in that I-want-something-way some girls were, and she hadn't once tried to glance at his scar – yet.

"Quite true. But maybe we won't be so bored when we are together."

She laughed. "Possibly. I'm Delia."

"Harry", he replied and they shook hands. "What are you doing here, if you don't mind me asking? You seem familiar, but I don't know why."

"I don't either", she grinned. "My half-brother, Alec, is graduating today, but the only thing we have in common is our father and the magic we inherited from him. Even our names are different."

Alec. Harry faintly remembered one boy from the ceremony, a Ravenclaw from the original seventh year, that had been called Alec. Or was it Alex? He didn't remember.

"Oh. But you didn't go to Hogwarts, did you?"

She shook her head. "Nope. My mother and I moved to America when I was seven, so I went to school there."

"You don't sound American."

"That's because I try not to. And now stop interrogating me!" She laughed and elbowed him, and Harry blushed.

"Sorry. I didn't realise I was doing it."

"No problem. So it's my turn: you graduated today, didn't you? What are you going to do now?"

Harry shrugged helplessly and started to talk about the many options he had, which all seemed interesting to him in one way or the other, and how he just couldn't decide.

They talked for hours about anything and everything. Because Delia had been raised as a muggle since her mother wasn't magical and, when she had finally breached the magical world, had lived in America, she barely knew anything nor cared about Harry Potter or The Boy Who Lived, and that was so deliberating that Harry was a lot more relaxed than usual. She played Quidditch, Seeker, and they actually played a nightly game, both hindered by the dark and their dressing robes, which neither of them won because they couldn't see the snitch, but it had been a lot of fun anyway. They talked about their favourite food, their hobbies, what they were going to do in the future – she wanted to do something boring, saving the exciting things for her holidays, while Harry wasn't sure since his life had been very exciting from the start, so he was going to keep down for maybe a year and see if he could bear it – random things like animals and how interesting the magical world was, though she had known it existed all along and had read books about it along with muggle books and hadn't been so excited when she entered magical school.

But of course they both were aware that they were getting along well and that they were flirting a little, and after a while they talked about relationships and significant others. She surprised him when saying she had experience with both boys and girls and was fairly open about it. She said that sex was something deliberating, no matter with whom one had it, and when Harry asked about trust, she explained that trust was of course important to feel comfortable. She would never have sex with someone she didn't trust to keep their intimate bedroom details silent, or with someone she didn't really feel any attraction for. When she had said that, she had looked up at him from between her lashes, and Harry was fairly certain she found him attractive. Then she had asked him what he thought about it, and Harry had blushed and stammered that he hadn't enough references to state an opinion. She hadn't laughed at him, merely smiled and asked what he thought about kissing, then. Harry had once again blushed and looked away, too embarrassed to reveal that he had only kissed two people, and after she had pulled the truth out of him, she had raised an eyebrow and dragged him away from the crowd into a dark corridor to show him her opinion about kissing.

At first Harry had participated enthusiastically, but suddenly he became aware of what he was doing, and he pulled away.

Delia licked her lips and pushed a stray lock of white blond hair behind her ear, breathing heavily. Then she seemed to see something in his face, for she laughed and shook her head. "This is only experimenting, Harry. Having fun, no strings attached, you know?"

Harry didn't reply, only blushed deeper, and she continued. "I like you, and I think I'm not mistaken when I say you don't dislike me yourself-" he nodded and she smiled "-but that is all. We had a nice evening, and I'd be comfortable if we continue with what we're doing and see where it leads us. I'm not averse to sex, but it doesn't have to happen, okay? No expectations. If tomorrow you think you enjoyed this, but that is all, that is okay. And if you think you enjoyed it and would like to meet me again, you can owl me – but that's too far into the future to think about now. Are you okay with this?"

Harry had looked at her, and an inner voice that sounded suspiciously like Seamus said 'Hell, mate, here you have a beautiful girl perfectly willing for anything you want to do, and you're hesitating? You, eighteen years old, inexperienced virgin?'

And so they continued snogging.

After a while, they both agreed the corridors were too cold – even in summer, Hogwarts was cool, especially at night – and decided they'd continue this at Gryffindor Tower. Or rather, Delia asked if he knew somewhere warmer, and Harry could only think of his bed in the dorm, thinking it was a tat bit too kinky to do what they maybe were going to do in the Room of Requirement. He also didn't want to know how the room would look if they went there now. So they went to Gryffindor Tower and, seeing as it was only shortly after midnight, both the common room and the dorm were empty, with the regular students already in bed and the graduating ones still at the party.

Somehow, they ended on Harry's bed and went from snogging to petting to heavy petting with slowly vanishing clothes. They were naked for a while already when Harry suddenly became aware of the position he was in – between Delia's slender legs, and both of them obviously eager for more – and this time it was Hermione's voice that resounded in his head; 'That we are wizards doesn't mean we don't have to use protection, Harry! Because of spells we are safer than muggles can ever be, but we still have to remember to use them!'

Panting, he broke away from the blonde, and when she tried to follow him, he stopped her. "Wait. Don't we need protection?" He just hoped she knew some spells, because he didn't, never having bothered learning them. He had always figured that when he needed them, he'd know in advance and could look them up then. So much for that.

"Oh, yes", she panted, wriggled around – Harry moaned when she rubbed against him – for her wand and said, "This one is absolutely safe and protects you from any diseases possible." It was a three word spell and Harry was glad she was doing it, because he'd never be able to remember it, especially in a moment where most of his blood was not in his brain. But at least a little was still there, because he noticed something. "Wait, what about pregnancy?"

Delia threw her wand onto her crumbled robes. "Don't need it. I can't get pregnant."

"Oh. I'm sorry", Harry stammered, wondering how he should react. But Delia only waved him away, saying "Doesn't matter. Come on!" and that was that.


	3. Chapter Two: Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed—don't you breathe? Don't you breathe? —I could do most anything to you…  
> _  
>  Snow Patrol – Somewhere a Clock is Ticking

Draco woke up with a start, gasping in the sudden fear that he had overslept, that it was morning already, that Potter was awake-

But Potter was sleeping soundly, one arm lying heavily on Draco's delicate waist, and it was dark behind the red curtains. Very slowly, he slipped out from under Potter's arm and carefully looked through the gap of the curtains. The curtains of the other beds were all closed, and one look out of the window showed that it was still night. Reaching for his wand, Draco cast a light sleep deepening charm that would wear off in an hour on Potter and all the other beds, and then a tempus. Half past four in the morning; he was glad he had awoken now and not later. Quickly, he got out of the bed, still disturbed by his small but very noticeable breasts that juggled with every motion he made. Ignoring both his and Potter's clothes that were strewn around the bed, no doubt providing for some very juicy comments and probably rumours Potter would get to hear in the morning, he thought about where to look first. He only hoped Potter had it and not given it to Granger or something, and he hoped even more that he hadn't managed to open it.

The last few days had to have been busy with packing and other things people normally did when school was about to end; exchanging addresses, making plans and the like. Potter couldn't have had much time trying to open his journal, and Draco prayed he hadn't shown it to somebody else yet, even though he knew his chances were slim.

Very silently – which strictly speaking wasn't necessary with the sleep deepening charm, but he was unwilling to take any chances – he rounded the bed and cast a revealing charm on Potter's nightstand.

No protection wards. What had he expected? This was Gryffindor; they trusted each other without requiring proof and would probably be offended if someone magically protected their possessions. Opening the top drawer, he rummaged through it but found nothing. Second drawer, still nothing. Swaying slightly, Draco cursed and sat on the floor, not minding his nakedness or the cold. The potion's effect was soon going to end, and changing one's gender was a lot more straining than they had bothered to mention in that ad in Blaise's very kinky sex magazine that, after he had stolen it from the boy because of the ad that had prompted a very desperate idea, had revealed a lot more about his roommate's sex preferences than Draco had ever wanted to know.

While he was trying to keep his breathing calm and steady, Draco's thoughts ran in circles. What if he didn't find it? What if he did find it, but everyone had read it already? What if they had given it to Granger and she was figuring out his wards at just this moment?

But no, he was being paranoid. Granger would have a lot to do, and at this time of the night she was most likely asleep like every other sane person in this castle.

Draco sighed and raised his wand, casting a summoning charm without much hope. And of course it didn't come, but he heard something… frowning, he accio'd it again. Yes, there was it, a very quiet thud, as if something fell against the closed door of a cupboard. Getting up slowly, minding the dizziness, Draco summoned it again and followed into the direction of the sound. There, next to an open cupboard that was still half-full was a trunk. Halting in front of it, he summoned his journal again, and yes, there it was- casting a revealing charm and not finding any wards, Draco opened the trunk, and there, lying on top of lots of strange stuff – some old, crumbled parchment, broken quills, old schoolbooks, robes, a very cheap sneakoscope – was his black journal.

Overcome with relief, Draco sat again, almost laughing when a huge weight fell from his heart. He quickly checked the wards he put on it and found that a few of them were disturbed – the one that was coupled with a heavy migraine curse when being undone by anyone other than the caster – but most were still intact. Feeling the urge to laugh again, Draco hugged the journal to his annoyingly female chest and sighed in more than relief.

He didn't bask in the feeling for long, though; the floor was bloody cold, and with the dizziness it would take him a lot longer to get down to the dungeons than usual, and then there was the fact that he didn't want anyone to catch him, even though they most likely wouldn't recognise him; nobody had that evening – and nobody had wondered where he was, as far as he had been aware of.

Dressing quickly, he took one last look at Potter who looked as innocent as anyone else when asleep and quickly took out some parchment and a quill he had seen in the nightstand earlier. Casting a few wards on them that would prevent any revealing charms to show his true identity, he wrote a quick note in a female hand, laid it on the pillow where he had slept earlier, glanced at Potter again and then turned around and left as quickly as his dizziness allowed. It was almost five am now; he had one hour left in that female body, and the smallprint in the ad had warned that the dizziness might happen, especially with the strongest dose of potion that lasted twelve hours. It had also had a disclaimer warning of any possible unknown consequences, but Draco had scoffed at that. If he had any female parts left even after the potion's effect was supposed to have come undone, he'd just transfigure himself back per wand. It was a little like animagus transfiguration anyway, he figured, and he had excelled in the NEWTs practical for transfiguration where they had had to transfigure their arms into twigs and back. Sure, they didn't have their results back yet, but he had transfigured his arm back and forth without any trouble. Some of the others had had to leave for Madam Pomfrey to transfigure their wooden arms back to normal.

After he was halfway down the dungeons, Draco paused, panting heavily, still clutching his journal to his chest. If anyone had read it… he was only glad he had re-secured it directly after getting it back from Madam Pince; he had lowered and password-triggered the wards so she could look into it, and if anyone had gotten hold of it then… but he trusted her, and he knew she would never ever have let anyone else lay hands on it, and she also wouldn't read anything but the poems he had written, not the entries that resembled diary-entries in everything but their not-present frequency and not the short-stories and dreams. He wouldn't really have minded if she had anyway, otherwise he would have copied the poems and given to her separately, but he knew he could trust her with more than his life; with his heart, and he had and been right to do so.

Merlin, if anyone had read the entries… Draco shuddered at the thought. Especially Potter. They would know immediately they were from him, if not with a revealing charm then by content, because he mentioned public encounters with Potter from his view, his feelings and thoughts to them, and everybody who read them would quickly figure out they were from him. The news of Draco Malfoy, outcast of Slytherin, yes; of the whole Hogwarts population, madly in love with Harry Potter, would have travelled as fast as back then when Potter had vanquished the Dark Lord. Add the fact that he was having sex- and _romantic_ dreams about him, and on top of that was collecting poems, and his humiliation would have been complete.

If he hadn't been glad his parents were dead already, he would have been then, for he would rather die than expose them to that.

But he had it back. And it would never become public how he had done that; nobody would ever connect the girl that nobody clearly remembered, not even Potter who had literally and metaphorically slept with her that night, with Draco Malfoy, who had made a brief appearance at the ceremony to get his certificate and then left to lock himself behind the curtains of his bed.

And in addition to getting back his journal, Draco had for one evening owned the freedom to talk to Harry without any prejudices thrown at him, without anybody paying even special attention, and on top of that he had not only gotten to kiss him, but also to have sex with him, watch his face during orgasm…

Draco shuddered pleasantly at the memory. Sure, the fact that he had been a girl and that Potter had called him by the wrong name had been not so enjoyable, but it was better than nothing.

He refused to think about how lonely it made him if he actually revelled in the thought of having sex with his heart's person with them thinking he was someone else.

Because Draco wasn't lonely. Sure, none of the students would talk to him, but he didn't want them to anyway. He could talk to Madam Pince and Madam Pomfrey, to Professor Snape and Vector and Flitwick and McGonagall, sometimes Dumbledore and sometimes even Filch, with whom he traded barbed comments out of mutual dislike, on rare occasions even Firenze and Hagrid. He had his books to occupy him, and he was sure he had excelled in his NEWTs, possibly even surpassed Granger. He didn't need the narrow-minded and self-righteous Gryffindors and Slytherins who were surprisingly alike in that aspect, and he certainly didn't need the Ravenclaws or Hufflepuffs who never had an own opinion, only tagged along with what the Gryffindors did.

He was just alone, not lonely, and there was a big difference.


	4. Chapter Three: Leaving the nest

Harry woke up feeling very relaxed and strangely sore, and he pondered that while he stretched. When he remembered the girl he had spent the evening and most of the night with, he paused and blushed deep red. She wasn't there anymore, but he had somehow expected that, even though he was a little disappointed. Maybe they could have rolled around for one last time in the morning…

But no, they couldn't have. He had to get up for breakfast and then quickly pack the rest of his things, and he knew if he didn't get up one of the guys would try to "wake" him, and he didn't want to imagine the embarrassment should that happen. He was in for it anyway; he was sure one of them had noticed that Harry had left with a girl, and even if they didn't, the clothes that he vaguely remembered lying strewn around his bed were an obvious message.

Sighing happily, Harry recounted the evening. He had met a nice girl and gotten along with her great, they had moved on to kissing and gotten along even greater. So they had moved to his bed, and Harry had lost his virginity and he couldn't _believe_ some of the things she had done. He hadn't even known one did such things or that he would enjoy them; but he had, and he wouldn't mind doing them again.

So he definitely didn't regret the evening. Did he want to contact her and start a relationship or affair, though?

He wasn't sure, but he didn't have to decide right now, anyway.

Deciding he might as well get up and start packing, Harry sat up, but before he opened the curtains, he noticed a parchment next to his pillow.

 _Hey Tiger!_ , it read. _I quite enjoyed your company, so if you ever feel like getting back together with me, just owl me, okay? Have a nice day! —Delia_

Harry grinned. So she had enjoyed his company, had she? He had been worried he was too inexperienced for her, but he had participated enthusiastically, and sex wasn't as complicated as he had thought anyway. And the best part of it all was that he wouldn't see anything splattered in the Prophet today, or tomorrow, or anytime, because he had never mentioned his last name and wasn't sure she had even recognised him.

Happily, Harry jumped out of bed, put her message in his trunk so he wouldn't forget it and started his day with a nice, hot shower.

~

Draco was woken up at half past six by his waking charm. More than tired and with a headache from hell, he sat up. He had only gotten back to sleep an hour ago; too tired to wait for his changing back to male. But he had wanted to get up early so he could check for any lingering female body parts and transfigure them back if need be, and also had he taken the habit of getting up before anyone else did; otherwise he could forget his quiet, calm morning.

Dragging himself out of the bed and wincing at the twinges all over his body, Draco went to the full-body-mirror on his cupboard and checked himself over.

Everything was fine. His most important parts were there, and anything else was back to normal as well – soft, girly flesh had changed back to his slightly muscled but mostly thin features, his shoulders were broader, his hips narrower, his stomach flat in a different way and, most importantly, the breasts had vanished and his bits were back. He actually had slight stubble on his cheeks, something he hadn't expected since he had spent the night without natural hairgrowth in his face, but well.

Feeling a little better, Draco went into the bathroom and showered quickly. He'd fare better if he got dressed before anyone woke up, and he had gotten up an hour later than usual. Breakfast was an hour later as well, at half past eight, so the students had more time to run their last-minute-errands before leaving directly after breakfast, but of course everyone used that hour for more sleep, especially those that had been at the party the evening before.

Draco had long finished packing all his things; his trunks stood safely warded next to his warded cupboard that held only fresh clothes for today and his dress robes – both of them – from yesterday, when he had just thrown them into the cupboard. Drying up, Draco dressed and then put his robes, nightgown and cosmetic products he had needed this morning into his second trunk. Checking for any forgotten possessions one last time and not finding any, Draco levitated his trunks and left his dorms for the last time just as his first class"mate" woke up.

Placing his trunks in the entry hall where all students were supposed to put them, Draco warded them against intrusion and went to the kitchen to see if he could get an early breakfast. In the past year, he had done that more and more often, though he didn't mind sitting alone in the Great Hall too much. He had made it a habit to always carry a book around he could read during the meals, and he wanted to show them that he didn't care that they were making him an outcast. It had hurt in the beginning, yes, and he had had a lot of trouble adapting at first, but he never wanted them to know. And in a few years, when he was important… if he even started a career that is; he wasn't too sure yet. He thought he had fought enough in his life already; he was tired of struggling, and he found that he actually enjoyed the quiet life he had been leading this past year. He could find himself a quiet job – if he ever thought of one – and live in peace, exchanging letters with his favourite professors and enjoying himself. Sure, one day he would like to have a family, and he couldn't expect them to live the same outcast life he was leading, but maybe he found a man or woman that liked a quiet life as well. Or he could leave Britain and live in Scotland or Ireland, or even leave the island and visit his relatives in France or Estonia and maybe start a life there. Everything was possible; he was free to do whatever he wanted, and most of that freedom was because he had no real ties here. There was something positive to be found in every situation, if one cared to look, Draco had learned in the past years.

The house-elves greeted him enthusiastically and set the table for him, and while he ate, Draco thought about whether he should actually attend the official breakfast. He didn't need to hear Dumbledore's parting words; he would say good-bye to the man personally as he would to every one of his professors. He could do that now and then leave for the train early, enjoy the last walk off the grounds of Hogwarts; he had never liked the carriages anyway. And then he wondered whether he actually had to head back by train; he neither needed the time with his non-existent friends, nor would anyone wait for him in London. He could go to Hogsmeade and either floo or apparate to Malfoy Manor directly; no unnecessarily nostalgia-triggering train rides full of students with cold eyes, no empty platforms full of parents that weren't his.

Finishing his meal, Draco stood up and thanked the house-elves for their hospitality especially in this past year and said good-bye; some of them actually became teary-eyed. So he promised he'd visit them sometime and, his pockets stuffed with little treats and trying successfully not to show his annoyance with their overabundant waving, he left the kitchen and made his way to his trunks to shrink and put them in his pockets; if he travelled back by floo they shouldn't stand were the trunks for the train stood, or they would travel by train without him. Then he made his way back to the dungeons for Professor Snape's quarters, but of course Snape wasn't there. So Draco checked the clock – twenty minutes to eight – and quickly made his way to his other professors. He was sure they were awake already and wouldn't mind a short visit from him; he only needed five minutes each to thank them and say good-bye, after all.

By the time breakfast started, Draco had only three professors left; Dumbledore, Hagrid and Snape. He had already decided he wouldn't take the train, but he still had to check that with Dumbledore, for as far as he knew, he was under Hogwarts' care until he left platform three quarters. So he had no choice; he would have to enter the Great Hall, but he didn't need to have breakfast with the students. He could just go to Dumbledore and check up with his plan, and then he could say good-bye to the headmaster, Snape and Hagrid. Snape wouldn't like that he was doing that in front of the whole school, but they had had their real parting words the previous evening already anyway, and saying good-bye was a mere formality.

So Draco walked into the Great Hall, ignoring the students some of which were watching him as usual (he had long given up his assumption that they'd grow tired of it eventually), and walked up to the teacher's table. Some waved at him in greeting, others just nodded or winked, and he smiled. He was lucky; Hagrid was sitting to Dumbledore's right while Snape was sitting to his left. Winking at Flitwick who was smiling and waving enthusiastically from the other end of the table, Draco walked up to where Dumbledore was waiting for him. "What can I do for you, my boy?"

"I thought about the train ride, sir, and-" Dumbledore interrupted him, smiling widely. "Sit down, Draco, have some breakfast with us. I'm sure Severus wouldn't mind making room for you."

Snape actually almost looked like he didn't, and Dumbledore drew a chair for Draco between them and a plate automatically appeared when he sat down. McGonagall, who was sitting next to Hagrid, levitated the sweet buns she knew he enjoyed because he always ravished them when she had them for their tea over to him, and Draco had no other choice but to take some, despite the fact that his robe pockets were already stuffed with them. Maybe he could show them to his own house-elves and they could learn how to make them for him.

After he had taken his first bite of bun with butter and cherry jam, Dumbledore asked "What about the train ride, Draco?"

"Well, I thought I didn't need to go to London by train, since I neither care to be in London nor the Hogwarts Express; I could apparate or floo to Wiltshire from Hogsmeade just as well without wasting hours sitting around."

Dumbledore sighed. "Yes… all students above seventeen could theoretically apparate or floo home, but usually they are quite fond of their last train ride back to London."

"Don' ya want'o sit with ya friends, Draco?" Hagrid asked curiously.

Draco blinked. "What friends? I have no friends."

Hagrid was confused. "But ya used ta walk around with tha' two big guys all th' time."

"Yeah, but ever since I openly said that I was on Dumbledore's side, no Slytherin will talk to me anymore." Deciding for peach jam for his second sweet bun, he ended "And neither will anybody else."

Hagrid was still confused, but didn't say anything more. He clearly wasn't the brightest wand in the box, but there was the fact that he hadn't taught any classes Draco had been in in the past two years.

"Well, Draco, I think it's no problem if you don't take the train back." Dumbledore appeared tired when he said that, and Draco knew he had hoped his classmates would come around eventually. But they hadn't; nobody had, and apparently Dumbledore had finally given up hoping as well.

Draco smiled. "Thank you, sir. Albus."

Dumbledore winked and started a conversation with Professor McGonagall over Hagrid's head. He had offered Draco the first name basis early into the war, when they had spent much time together with Draco retelling everything he remembered of his father's business partners and friends; memories that reached back as far as his first steps. But Draco still wasn't used to it; Dumbledore was just someone who got respect from anyone without even trying, and he couldn't get over the fact that he obviously considered Draco worthy – or rather, close enough as he would probably see it – of calling him by his first name.

"Well, Draco. Since you won't take the train, you are not bound to leave when the other students leave. Perhaps now we can have that talk about what you intend to do with your future that you so skilfully evaded yesterday." Snape said dryly, and Draco sighed. He knew Snape wouldn't approve of his choice of leading a silent, hidden life, so he had used some excuse about seeing someone he knew yesterday and had vanished before Snape could protest, but it seemed he would have that discussion now.

"Well, thing is, I have no idea what I'm going to do with my life now, but I still have time to decide anyway since the NEWT results will arrive somewhere in August."

"And what do you want to do, if you could choose something no matter the circumstances?", Professor Vector, sitting besides Professor Snape, asked curiously.

Draco shrugged. "There are several things I like, but I have yet to find out how to connect them to a job I would enjoy."

Snape lost his patience with his evading answers. "Out with it, Draco. Stop beating around the bush."

"Uhm, I like reading and writing, I enjoy potions brewing and reading in different languages, of course I like flying, and I think that's about it."

"What kind of writing do you prefer? Creative writing like novels or short stories or poems, or professional writing like essays or articles?" Professor Vector queried.

Draco grinned. "Both, though at the moment I think I have quite enough of writing essays."

"What about Experimental Potion Brewery?" Snape's idea, of course.

"I might enjoy that, but right now I'd rather do something less exciting with my life."

"You could write a book, or become a freelance journalist. Depending on which paper you apply to, you can write articles about this or that, essays, short stories, even poems." Snape nodded to this idea of Professor Vector's, and Dumbledore, who apparently could lead a conversation and listen to another at the same time, had another idea. "Or you could try being a librarian for a while. I'm sure Madam Pince wouldn't mind having a month of extra holidays; she's been complaining about not having enough time to read for quite a while now."

Professor Vector provided some more ideas. "Or you could offer your services at translating documents or letters into different languages, or translate books. I think Professor Babbling would actually appreciate some help; he is supporting his brother's translating service and would pay well. Or you could work as a courier and fly important documents, or you could work as a flying instructor for children or the Junior Quidditch League."

"And you could always learn some rare languages. I was often asked to help as a translator for contracts with the merpeople when I was younger, and it came to my ears Firenze taught you some Centaurish." Dumbledore winked.

Draco was quite overwhelmed. "I think I might actually try all of those and look what I like best, or maybe when I'm through trying them all I'm so rich I don't need to work anymore."

"Draco, you already are that rich." Snape said dryly.

"Yes, well. That's hardly earned, is it? Besides, I was using a metaphor."

Snape just looked at him with one raised eyebrow, and Draco went back to eating his third sweet bun, this time with elderflower jam. He was about halfway through, mulling over the jobs the teachers had thought of, wondering which one he was going to do first and how he was going to go about it, when Hagrid rose to accompany the students to Hogsmeade Station, biding him goodbye full with bones-creaking hug and shoulder-patting that almost brought him to his knees.

Watching with one eye as the students left, he finished his second breakfast, thanked the remaining teachers for their help and everything and then left, accompanied by Snape, who had had the idea that Draco floo from his chambers, sparing him the walk down to Hogsmeade. Belatedly, Draco had remembered that he could have taken one of the carriages to Hogsmeade, but flooing from Snape's chambers was totally acceptable. With the promise to read the two Potions books Snape had given him the second he entered his quarters and the secret thought that his former teacher probably was a little lonely with nobody to talk to about his favourite hobby, Draco grabbed a handful of floopowder and stepped into the fire, addressing Malfoy Manor.

Draco had never flooed so ungracefully, not even as a seven-years-old when he had been allowed to floo on his own for the first time. He stumbled out of the fireplace, head reeling and clutching his stomach, Snape's books dropping to the floor carelessly. Fighting against the nausea and dizziness, he was afraid to even breathe and very carefully, yet clumsily lowered to his knees and sank to the side, pressing his cheek against the cold marble tiles and gaze fixed at some point at the wall. Very controlled and slowly, he breathed in and out, and even slower the dizziness faded, clearing his vision. After what felt like hours, the nausea faded into a dull throbbing in his lower stomach, and Draco could focus on the house-elf that had come to greet him and now stood in a corner, trembling and watching him with eyes as big as saucers.

"Cookie", he whispered, and the house-elf nodded hastily, taking a few steps towards him. She seemed to sense that he didn't have the mind for any conversation – or whatever one might call house-elf squeaking – now. "Bring me the Draught of the Mexican from the Potions lab, please."

Cookie nodded and actually had the mind to leave the room before apparating away with a sharp pop. Not even a minute later, she came back, a small vial with a bright blue liquid in her hands. She pulled the stopper and gave it to him, but his hands were shaking so much he didn't dare touch it. Instead, he carefully rolled on his back, fought off the resulting wave of nausea, and opened his mouth. Just as careful as he had been, Cookie stepped closer and let the liquid drip into his mouth, pausing every few seconds to let him swallow and take a breath. He was very lucky she had been the one to greet him; she was the house-elf specialised on medicine and child rearing, and that came in very handy now.

Slowly, he felt the Draught calm his stomach until everything that was left was an uncomfortable twinge.

"That was unusual", he murmured and sat up carefully. He was a bit scared by what had happened, but he reckoned that was what the smallprint of the girlpotion had meant with "unknown consequences". Why anyone would subject themselves to that out of their free will, he had no idea. And sex as a girl hadn't been all that satisfying either, apart from the fact that it had been with Harry. And even that had been shallow, knowing Harry would never even have looked at him twice (only perhaps to mock him) if he had known who "Delia" really had been.

Standing up on shaky legs, he pulled his shrunken trunks from his pocket and gave them together with Snape's potions books to Cookie, who'd know what to do with them. "I'll call you about lunch. That's all."

With a squeaked "Yes, Master", she bowed almost until her nose touched the floor – she had probably been more scared by this nausea-attack than he had been – and vanished.

Draco pondered for a second what to do now and decided to sit in the garden with a book. He had originally planned to take a look at everything, but he reckoned too much activity wasn't a very good idea now. Making a stop at the kitchen, he pulled out the sweet buns the house-elves at Hogwarts had given him and instructed his elves to learn how to bake them for him every morning. Then he ordered Boddy to make him some stomach-soothing tea, informed Kibby, who'd know what to do, that he intended to sit in the gardens for a bit and sent Moonie to retrieve a random book from the library for him; anything light would be fine. Glad that the gardens weren't too far from the kitchen, he went and sat on the armchair Kibby had placed next to a bed of mixed white flowers, shadowed slightly by a large parasol, a small table with his tea and book waiting for him and a small stool for his feet.

With a sigh, Draco sat and closed his eyes, enjoying the calm.


	5. Chapter Four: Making Room

Happily ignoring the lovey-dovey glances Hermione and Ron were throwing each other every few seconds, Harry munched on his toast. He had gotten quite the grilling earlier, and when he'd let slip that he now could participate in any sex talk, he had been mercilessly teased. But seeing as he had never before been able to take part in any discussions about sex or girls or boys or relationships or generally anything related and knowing that Seamus, Dean and Ron had been teased exactly the same when they had done the deed, he proudly considered it some kind of rite of passage.

He was lucky, though, that none of the news had reached Hermione or Ginny yet, because he knew he'd get quite the grilling from them on who the girl was, where she came from, where they going to meet again, and you let her into Gryffindor Tower, Harry! None of the guys had cared whether Delia and Harry had gotten along; they had asked if she had been beautiful (Seamus actually remembered faintly seeing her with Harry, but he had enjoyed the punch a little bit more than he should have, and so his memory was a little blurry), if she had had experience, and how it had been.

Harry was so busy with philosophising about how much his life had changed now even though nothing _really_ had changed and why that was, he didn't notice Dean talk until Hermione and Ron answered. Actually, he wouldn't even have noticed that if their body language hadn't changed from happy in-their-own-world fiancées to silent and watchful. Blinking, he followed their line of vision only to see Draco Malfoy sitting at the teacher's table between Dumbledore and Snape, engaged in a conversation with both of them, Hagrid and Professor Vector at the same time.

"No idea", Ron replied to a question Harry hadn't heard, but had no hard time figuring out.

"Students aren't allowed to sit with the teachers!", Hermione whispered furiously, eyes dark. Harry had no idea why, but she always seemed slightly uncomfortable and tense when the subject Draco Malfoy popped up, which didn't happen too often, so he hadn't asked her about it so far.

"Well, he isn't exactly a student anymore, is he? We all aren't ever since we received our leaving certificates," Seamus said in a dismissing tone. He clearly thought Malfoy and what he was doing wasn't worth noticing, much less talking about, and Harry agreed.

"So what are you going to do over summer?", Lavender asked from next to Ron, and quickly the topic changed to more interesting things than Malfoy.

Harry had no idea what he was going to do until he started with is job – he didn't even have an idea what his job was going to be. Yeah, in fifth year he had thought he wanted to be auror, mostly because he had no idea what jobs existed in the wizarding world and because he had thought it was the only thing he could do. But the year of war had taught him that being an auror was, while something he could do, maybe not the best idea for him. He tended to rush in head first, and that wouldn't only endanger himself and the mission, but also his partners, and that was something he couldn't bear. But he also couldn't stop himself; he was just too impulsive, and when he, say, heard someone had kidnapped Ginny Weasley and had them brought to the Chamber of Secrets, he had to go and safe her, and _now_. He was unable to bear the thought that someone was in danger, probably even tortured, and he could do something to stop it, but wasn't doing it.

And, if nothing else, the war had taught him that jumping in without a second thought was a bad, bad idea.

He could, of course, start playing quidditch professionally; but he wasn't too sure yet he liked the part with the travelling around for months. Yeah, he could apparate or floo back home every evening, but finding a girlfriend or just meeting his friends wouldn't be too easy with that kind of job. Also, he didn't know whether he wanted to spend the rest of his young years in danger, only to be discarded as soon as he became too old or gained some weight. He wanted a job he would enjoy; something he could do during the day and then leave to go home to his significant other. What he didn't want was a job that would consume him and his private life; something that would follow him home and pop up late in the evening when he was just about to go to bed, and auror certainly seemed like it would be one of those jobs.

"Harry, come on, we want to get a good compartment!", Hermione urged him on and suddenly he became aware that the students were leaving – his friends were all standing and waiting for him. Quickly grabbing his half-eaten toast, Harry rose and together, they went to the carriages.

Just before entering, Harry turned and looked back at the front doors. They were too close to the castle to have a proper view, so, feeling nostalgic already, Harry sat in the carriage and stared out of the window, watching Hogwarts fading farther and farther away. He was leaving his first home, and while he was looking forward to the future, he at the same time almost wished he'd come back next year, and the year after that, and really all the upcoming years 'til the day he died. Sure, many unpleasant things had happened there, but the castle was important to him on so many levels – he supposed he'd always think of it as a safe refuge, somewhere he could go in desperate times and be home.

Ron and Hermione were silent as well, and at Hogsmeade Station he saw that his fellow classmates were all looking a little down. Hogwarts had been important to all of them.

They boarded the train, found an empty compartment together with Neville and Ginny and made themselves comfortable. The train was about to leave when they remembered Hagrid; quickly opening the window and leaning out of it, they waved at the half-giant who was standing farther away and waving back, smiling half-heartedly. There was no time anymore to exchange words; Hogwarts Express gave a puff of white smoke and started rolling.

"I feel bad. We didn't even tell him goodbye properly." Hermione sighed and sat down.

Ron patted her shoulder. "It's okay, Hermione, we talked to him at the party, and I think he'd understand. Besides, it's not as if we're never going to see him again."

"I suppose you are right", she sighed again and that was that.

The ride back was nice and lively, though they all got a little nostalgic from time to time. But they cheered up pretty quickly again; mostly because they were looking forward to months of freedom without any school whatsoever. Harry and Ginny were thinking about trying for official Quidditch, while Ron was determined to become Auror and Hermione couldn't yet decide, pondering about making S.P.E.W. official but not having the means. They didn't even ask what Neville was going to do; it had been obvious since at least fourth year that he was going to start working in Herbology.

Hermione would spend the next two weeks with her parents while Harry would stay with the Weasleys at the Burrow until he found a flat somewhere – he wasn't too sure yet. He had pondered buying a new house or renovate – rebuild, rather – his parents' house at Godric's Hollow or possibly even Grimmauld Place, but so far he had nothing planned. It was a good thing he was a wizard; he didn't have to wait until he had decided for a job and then find a flat close by, he could just floo or apparate from literally anywhere.

When the Hogwarts Express arrived in London, they bid their friends goodbye and greeted the Weasleys and Grangers, who were standing together waiting for their children. They had seen them only yesterday so it was no big deal, and after only ten minutes they got their trunks and left. The Grangers had agreed to spend the afternoon at the Burrow for tea, and it was a nice conclusion. Harry went to bed feeling happy and carefree and revelling in that.


	6. Chapter Five: Recognition of the Ironies and Absurdities

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Sometimes the laughter in mothering is the recognition of the ironies and absurdities. Sometimes, though, it's just pure, unthinking delight._
> 
> Barbara Schapiro, O Magazine, May 2003

_That's it_ , Draco thought, panting and wiping his mouth with a wet cloth. He had just thrown up for the third time that morning, and it wasn't even twelve yet.

It had been five days since he had started feeling sick in the morning; in addition to that, he sometimes felt dizzy, and he felt lethargic, but couldn't sleep. Potions only seemed to make it worse; he threw some of them up before he had even really swallowed them, and he had enough. He was going to St. Mungo's.

But not by floo. He clearly remembered that incident a little more than a month ago when he had come home from Hogwarts and had nearly lost consciousness with nausea. This wasn't as bad as that had been, but it was bad enough – and it wasn't fading. Apparation was out of question, too – he hated it, and he didn't need to be a genius to guess that the feeling of being squeezed tight wouldn't help him right now. In addition to that, apparating always gave him a headache; the pressure to his eardrums never failed to achieve that.

So the carriage it was.

Cleaning his mouth with a quickly muttered charm, Draco stood and staggered back into his room, shivering. He had no idea why, seeing as it was the middle of August and very hot, but every time he stepped out of the sun, he immediately started shivering – and being in the sun made him feel even more dizzy and he got a headache, quickly feeling feverish. _Maybe I got some kind of summer flu_ , he speculated while he clad himself in light blue summer robes with fluffy white clouds tumbling over the outer robe. At least his magic wasn't out of control; he hated it when he levitated or even exploded things without even consciously having done anything.

Calling for Cookie, who had been wringing her hands over his sickness, anxious that nothing she did seemed to help him, he ordered her to ready the carriage and made his way down the long corridors and stairs of the Manor, heading for the front door. Normally he would have taken the chair, a technique that mixed apparating, flooing and the carriage's transporting technique together and had been invented hundreds of years ago by rich owners of big houses who were too lazy to walk from one end to another countless times a day, but were also unwilling to put everything – dining room, salon, sleeping quarters – at the same area or, Merlin forbid, floo or apparate in their own house, but he wasn't too sure that would do him any good now. Besides, a short walk would warm him up a bit and maybe get his circulation going.

At the front door, Cookie was waiting, still wringing her hands, the horseless carriage ready with Kibby waiting at the door. He had no idea how long it had been since somebody had taken it; maybe his mother had needed it when she had been pregnant with him, but he wasn't sure.

"Kibby is refreshing charms, Master. Where is Master wanting to go?", she squeaked when he stepped in.

"St. Mungo's", he replied, tired, and Kibby nodded and set the destination into the charm. "If Master is wanting to go somewhere else, Master just calls Kibby and Kibby will redestinate charm, yes Master?"

Draco just nodded and Kibby closed the door. He heard her casting a glamour that would make the carriage look like one of those muggle vehicles and a second later, he was on his way.

Sighing, he leant back into the pillows and closed his eyes. He had spent six wonderful, quiet weeks at home, walking the grounds of the Manor, checking the gardens, planting new and rare plants for potions he wanted to try to make in the greenhouses, brewing potions, reading books and writing letters to Snape, who was now at his home in Spinner's End and probably not noticing whether it was day or night while he was brewing complicated potions, most likely coming up with something in importance similar to Wolfsbane.

He had tried flying and swimming, but had found it somehow tired him a lot more quickly than usual. At first he had thought that was because he hadn't played quidditch in the past year at Hogwarts, but he had taken a lot of walks and also taken the habit of swimming in the lake at night; and besides, he also tired when he walked too many steps or just generally was up for too long. He supposed the girlpotion had had a negative effect on his circulation and immune system and he would regenerate with time. At first he had tried to fly or swim more to get his condition back, but it had only had the negative effect of him sleeping for thirteen hours straight, and thus he had taken the advice his body had given him and done nothing too strenuous. He had also determined to never, ever drink an unknown or uncommon potion again without knowing what was in it and having checked it over, or letting Snape check it over. Of course he couldn't have done that with the girlpotion, but next time – if there ever was one, something he firmly intended to prevent at all costs – he would have to think of a different way to get his possessions back. There was always Imperio and Obliviate as last measures, after all; otherwise, coercion potions or spells were useful as well and with a little time might prove just as good results as the girlpotion. They were more dangerous, of course, which is why he hadn't used them on Harry Potter (he was neither stupid nor suicidal, after all), but next time, he'd have to. Better Potter than he himself.

Draco woke up from a light sleep he hadn't even been aware of falling into when the carriage came to a halt in front of St. Mungo's after maybe half an hour of driving. _What a waste of time_ , he thought, thinking of all the things he could have done in those thirty minutes – see a healer and be out again with a potion and a diagnosis, for example. He only hoped he would be able to floo back.

After going through the tiring process of identification the muggle entrance always came with, Draco stepped into the entrance hall and immediately headed for the second floor, magical bugs. Maybe he would have to go to the third later, potions damage, but he only hoped that wouldn't be the case; he really didn't want anyone to find out that he took a gender changing potion, even if it was just a healer who was bound by the Healer's Oath. Besides, he was pretty sure he had some magical bug; the potion wouldn't prevent some other potions from working, he had proof of that – the Draught of the Mexican had worked at the beginning, after all.

The reception witch on the second floor asked only one question: "Major or minor?"

Draco raised one eyebrow. "Well, I'm not about to die, if that's what you're asking."

She just smiled blandly and led him to a room, telling him to wait for Healer Sourstone.

Draco sat down and did as he was told. Thankfully, he hadn't been waiting for longer than a few minutes when said healer, a man past his prime with grey hair and beard and blinking brown eyes entered, holding a light brown wand of maybe ten inches that he swung in a well-practiced gesture, invoking the spell that would prevent him from speaking about anything that happened in the room unless the other occupant would verbally and magically release him from that Oath.

"Howard Sourstone, hello," he smiled and they shook hands.

"Draco Malfoy."

"Please, sit. How can I help you, Mr. Malfoy?" Howard Sourstone was an absolute professional, it seemed. He hadn't even twitched when hearing Draco's name. Of course, it was possible the reception witch had recognised him and already forewarned the healer – or that he knew or cared nothing about the war, but that seemed fairly unlikely. Everybody knew and cared, some far more than they should.

"I seem to have some kind of summer flu. For the past five days I've been throwing up in the mornings; also something is wrong with my circulation."

"What lead you to that thought, Mr. Malfoy?"

"Well, I'm nauseous and dizzy very often, and lethargic. I'm sleeping for a lot longer than usual and tire very quickly."

Sourstone nodded. "Allow me to cast a few spells, please." It wasn't a real request; that was why Draco was here, after all. He held still while Sourstone cast several spells for blood pressure, unusual blood components, symbiotic or parasite beings, and several others Draco had no idea about because he never cared enough about healing to go past that. The battlefield's immediate healing hadn't needed much more.

"Have you recently been in other countries or in contact with someone who was, or with magical beasts or unusual herbs?"

"A few herbs, but they came to me on a legal way, properly sterilised. I have been fairly isolated the last six weeks. Oh, and I have house-elves, but of course none of them have left my property other than for shopping."

Sourstone pursed his lips. "Well, something is off with your circulation, Mr. Malfoy, you were right about that part. Your blood pressure is pretty low, and something is clearly feeding off your energy, though I cannot find any parasites or-" The healer paused and quickly cast another spell Draco didn't know, asking at the same time "Have you perchance been in contact with fertility enhancing creatures, like Veela or Incubi, or potions?"

Draco's mouth almost dropped open and he couldn't help the light blush creeping into his cheeks. "No! I'm perfectly fine in that aspect, thank you."

Sourstone looked up at him and frowned before casting the spell again. "Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"Well, that's strange, because you seem to be pregnant."

Draco stared.

"If you opened your robes we could see more clearly, but I'm about hundred percent certain."

Draco swallowed. His first instinctive reaction was a horrified "No!", and the second was a rant about how he hadn't had any contact with _fertility enhancing anything_ ever, _at all_ , because he didn't need to, thank you very much. He wanted to hiss about how nobody had touched him that way in two years, how he'd rather stay solo 'til his death than touch one of those prejudiced bastards, but he couldn't – he had had sex. And he had bottomed. If one could call it that, seeing as he had been a girl at the time and physically unable to top-

His breathing stopped. He had had sex. As a girl. After taking a potion with unknown effects.

Without any pregnancy protection; he had thought he didn't need any since he was a boy-

"Breathe, Mr. Malfoy!" Sourstone's worried voice came from somewhere far away, and Draco blinked and started to hyperventilate. A sharp hiss and clap right in front of his face startled him, and suddenly he noticed Sourstone's face mere inches from his, his chin tightly in the healer's grip.

"Look into my eyes, Mr. Malfoy!"

Draco did. They were brown; a nice, warm colour he always associated with the picture of his aunt, Andromeda, who had married a muggleborn and had thus been cast out of the family. But his mother had had a picture of her that she had pulled out when Draco had been a child to tell him stories about her sisters, and he had always wished he had siblings himself then.

"Breathe in, Mr. Malfoy, slowly. Hold your breath. Breathe out. Yes, like that. In. Hold. Out." Draco's vision cleared – he hadn't even noticed the black spots dancing in front of his eyes – and slowly he became conscious of his surroundings again. Embarrassed, he realised he had almost had a panic attack.

"Better?"

He nodded, and, relieved, Sourstone let go of his face and sat down next to him.

"Well, since this apparently was a shock for you, I assume you had no idea?"

Draco shook his head. He couldn't quite grasp it yet; he couldn't be pregnant. True, there had been pregnant male Malfoys before who had survived mostly, that was not the problem, but none of them had become pregnant because they had had sex as a girl with _Harry fucking Potter_ of all people to get back a secret journal in which they had confessed their undying love or at least infatuation with said person.

He felt the hysterical urge to laugh and could barely repress it. He wouldn't break down more than he already had, at least not until he was at home and alone.

"That doesn't happen often, but it has occurred – how much do you know about male pregnancy?"

Draco swallowed, cleared his throat and shook his head. Sourstone patted his arm sympathetically and continued speaking. "Well, I'm ashamed to say that I don't know much more about it than the standard healer; I am no expert for male pregnancy. However, I know a few colleagues who are discreet and helpful; would you rather speak to one of them?"

Draco shook his head again. He didn't want to talk to anyone, he wanted to get home and hide in the darkest corner he could find.

"I shall give you a list of names, then, both private and St. Mungo's healers. You will have to make an appointment very quick for your first check-up; after that, you should see your healer at least every three weeks. What you should know immediately, though, is that eating a boiled egg in the morning will take care of the morning sickness; for the nausea and dizziness helps drinking a lot of water and eating healthy and varying meals. I can also give you a list of potions specifically for male pregnancies; normal potions or for the female pregnancy won't help or may even be harmful, so you should refrain from taking them. Also should you stay away from straining activity, especially in the first months, and afterwards, well, you won't be able to do anything straining anymore." Sourstone winked. "Other than that, flooing and apparating is totally out of question, seeing as they're a grave danger to the unborn child, as well as alcohol and any other mood-, mind- or body-altering potions and, most people forget about that, strong magics and quite a bunch of potion ingredients, your healer can give you a full list. If you don't want to risk your child dying or becoming disfigured, I'd seriously advice you to stay away from all of that."

Draco nodded. He didn't take any of those things anyway; apart from a butterbeer here and there, he had only ever once tested a firewhiskey to try it and hadn't liked it and thus stayed away from it or anything similar. The potion ingredients were going to be a problem, though – he would have to advice his house-elves to tending after them. He only hoped they hadn't done any harm yet.

"Now, about the father of your child. No, no, I don't need to know who it is; it's totally irrelevant, so long as they have no magical creature in them or have any heritage diseases?"

Shrugging, Draco shook his head. He had no idea.

"Well. You need to talk to them. Law is that if a magical child is conceived, both parents need to be made aware of it. If you decide that one of you will raise the child alone that's fine; a parol contract will be enough to determine that. Should they later try to fight you, a pensieve memory of the making of that contract will be enough. I'm sorry if I'm assuming; only it didn't seem like you expected or even planned for a pregnancy, so I think you should know all that. Of course you should speak to a Law Wizard to get to know the exact laws concerning child raising and single or joined parentage."

Feeling numb, Draco nodded, and Sourstone patted him again before summoning a parchment and quill and scribbling something down on it. "Here is a list of Healers and Consultants for Male Pregnancy I recommend; also a list of potions that will be helpful. I will contact you in a few days to check up on you, okay?"

He got another pat, and before he knew it, Draco was standing back in the corridor. Still feeling strangely detached – it just couldn't be true; he couldn't be pregnant from Harry Potter of all people – he made his way down the stairs and out of St. Mungo's. Climbing into his car-glamoured carriage, he sat heavily and barely noticed it starting to move, bringing him back to Malfoy Manor.

He was pregnant. There was a tiny life growing inside of him.

Of all the turns Draco had expected his life to take, this definitely wasn't one of them. Sure, he had a strange obsession-like crush on Harry Potter, but it wasn't like he had ever expected to act on it – to even get the chance to act on it. And since getting his fairy tale ending had been out of question, he had thought he might as well marry a girl; for him there was no difference to the male or female form, at least not concerning his attraction to it.

But this… Merlin. And he would have to tell Potter about it. How was he going to do that?

He really needed to talk to a Law Wizard, find out if that was really necessary and what would happen if he didn't. His first instinct was to keep it from the guy forever, which would be fine if Potter never found out. But unfortunately, the git had made it a habit of accidentally finding out things he shouldn't.

Sinking back into the pillows, Draco stared at the ceiling with unseeing eyes.


	7. Chapter Six: The Quest to find a safe ground

_6 Weeks, 2 Days_

Two days since his visit at St. Mungo's had passed. He barely remembered how he had gotten home or into his bed; Draco just knew he had woken up there sometime in the afternoon, feeling tired and weak in more ways than one.

He had stayed in bed for more than two hours, just staring at the ceiling and thinking. He had thought about his parents and what they'd say about his situation (nothing encouraging, of that he had no doubt), about his former friends and people in general. Then he had thought about his child, the tiny life that wasn't even a real baby yet. He knew next to nothing about male pregnancy (or rather, pregnancy in general), seeing as usually men didn't get pregnant by accident and thus didn't need to get to know about the details until they decided they would, but he knew that he would get very fat until after nine months he was ready to burst, and then he'd go through a very, very painful, gory, long process of trying to get the baby out. Wait, why was it painful? He had heard that from Pansy who's cousin's husband had brought their child to the world, but shouldn't he have taken some pain potions or something? There _had_ to be something to make birth less horrible for the mother or birth father.

Feeling suddenly a lot more energised, he had decided he knew way too little about pregnancy and ordered Moonie to bring him every book about male pregnancy from the library there was. Then he had sent an order to the wizard index for a list of the ten best law wizards for parental rights, sent the list of healers Sourstone had given him to the Malfoy private investigator to check their backgrounds and sent Boddy out to get him the potions. He had finally accepted the food Cookie had tried to tempt him to eat for days and, while eating, had read a book about the stations of male pregnancy that was one hundred and fifty years old. The other books were equally up-to-date, and so he had sent an order for the ten most useful, most important books about male pregnancy to Obscurus Books and then buried himself in the diary of Tarleton Malfoy, and ancestor of his that had died seventy years ago who had given birth to his son, Wilmett Malfoy, his great-grandfather. Tarleton's writing style was very interesting and amusing, but not ridiculing; sadly, he didn't record anything technical that happened, only things of different importance like "I can't see my feet anymore" or "Today I felt him move for the first time". Still, after having read the whole diary, he felt a little better.

One of his close and direct ancestors had given birth before; that meant he had been genetically proved to being physically able to give birth and survive. Also, according to Tarleton, pregnancy, while very uncomfortable, was something to cherish. Draco wasn't too sure about that yet, but he was beginning to see the positive aspects. He would have a much closer relationship to his son or daughter than his father had had to him; also, he wouldn't need to marry a woman if he didn't want to. In fact, he didn't need to marry at all now; his child would be his legitimate heir and he would be totally independent concerning continuing the line. The downside was that he would have to have contact with people in a few years; he couldn't let his child grow up without any contact to other children at all. But there was a positive aspect in that as well; he had a ground to work on. Having children of the same age should provide some material for smalltalk, and he wouldn't have to attend tea parties or festivities and approach someone without any common ground.

Then his thoughts had wandered to Potter. He was fairly sure the Golden Boy wouldn't want to have any responsibility or even just contact to a child that was related to Draco. Most likely he would fall into rage and try to hex Draco or something.

Once again, Draco resolved to speak to a law wizard and get to know his exact rights and what he would have to do so Potter permanently lost his rights to the child. So far, all he knew was that he as the birth parent had two thirds of law on his side and Potter as the fathering parent one third; this was enhanced by the fact that they had no relation whatsoever and in fact, regarded each other with animosity without any chance to conciliation.

But then there was the fact that he was Draco Malfoy and Potter was _the_ Harry Potter; if Potter submitted the case to court and openly fought Draco's right to the child, he would most likely win. The wizarding world would give anything to their saviour.

So Draco would have to make sure he gave up all his rights. If he had to, by leaving the country and forcing Potter to submit the case to another country's laws; a country where nobody gave a thing about Harry Potter or the Dark Lord.

In fact, leaving the country sounded like a splendid idea. The Malfoys had several estates in Europe (and other continents, but he didn't intend to go to Asia, America or Africa for anything else than to check his business there and perhaps spend the holidays); also, he had relatives in Italy, France, Russia and Galicia that he knew personally and who he knew would give him shelter. He liked the thought of France, but he didn't know the language that well (though he could pull off the accent wonderfully) and also, it was a little too close to home for his comfort; besides the French had a few strange views concerning male pregnancy. And he could imagine Potter searching for him there, if he thought of looking outside the United Kingdom. But Italy sounded rather tempting, if not a little hot – though his child would be born in winter, so the worst part of the pregnancy wouldn't be enhanced by hot weather. He wasn't too sure he wanted to raise his child there, though – most Italians were very hearty people, but totally unable to catch subtle signs or hints. The French were a little like that concerning flirting, but were very sneaky about making someone feel uncomfortable without actually seeming to do anything.

Anyways, he had enough time to think about where to raise his child and where to spend his pregnancy later; now he had an appointment with a law witch specialised on parental law and a healer specially trained and experienced in male pregnancy. The law witch was settled in Oxford and the healer in Cambridge; he had chosen them not only because of their reputation and impeccable backgrounds, but also because they weren't stationed in London. They were both very skilled and also, just as important, very discreet. If they had any famous clients/patients, Draco's private investigator couldn't find out about it in the few days' range Draco had given him; neither could he prove or even just relate rumours to them, nor could he get any names, and that had almost impressed Draco. His private investigator was very skilled and quick; it was possible he could find something with a little more time, and he would keep an eye on them, but that he hadn't found any in the two days Draco had given him was a sure indicator to their trustworthiness.

After entering the carriage and settling in for a not so long ride – fifteen, maybe twenty minutes to Oxford – he thought about the resolutions he had made the day before. The potions had made him feel a lot better, but he didn't trust the apothecaries to use only totally fresh and quality ingredients; also he wasn't too sure they followed the steps as well as they should. It was a fact that apothecaries had little time, and they were threatened by the sheer fact that most people could brew potions themselves or at least knew someone who would do it for them for free. So they had to offer something those people couldn't; quicker delivery, higher efficiency and the like. The result was a lot of potions that had been tampered with somehow, and Draco refused to risk the health or safety of his child like that.

Thing was, he couldn't brew the potions himself; he had gotten a list of potion ingredients he shouldn't touch, breathe or taste from Obscurus Books, and it came down to the fact that he better not touch anything at all. There were a few potions he could brew, but all the ones he needed ironically had some ingredient he shouldn't come into contact with. He only knew one solution: ask Snape. And that meant telling Snape about the pregnancy (asking for the potions alone basically counted as telling him already; Snape was in no way stupid, after all), and, knowing Snape, the Potions Master wouldn't rest until he knew the father and then the whole story.

But, Draco thought, if he'd refuse to tell Snape, there wasn't much he could do; it may cause some disgruntled looks and maybe even anger or suspicion, but after a while, Snape would probably calm down.

If everything went well with Potter.

Merlin, he hoped so. He didn't know if he could stand to not only see Potter regularly, but to have to interact with him, compromise and talk about the raising of their child. It was totally obvious to everyone that they had totally different views to nearly everything; he knew that especially if they would have to raise a child, their differences would rub each other even worse. In the past, they didn't have to interact with each other; they often clashed like the opposite sides of a magnet that were somehow bound together, but if something was too much, they always had had the last solution of ignoring each other.

But if they raised a child together, that wasn't possible. Neither of them would back off, they'd fight about anything and everything, and their child would be in the middle of it all, confused by the totally different ways of life of its parents, and it was nearly impossible it would come out of that unscathed. Also, Draco knew instinctively that he and Potter would value opposing things concerning the upbringing of their child; there was no middle ground. Potter would probably only think about the fun things of life, making Draco the boring parent who insisted on things like manners and proper behaviour.

And Draco himself knew so little about bringing up a child. Sure, he had read the _Malfoy Code of Children's_ Care the day before, but really, it was pretty old and most of the stuff needed to be modified. Also, looking back at his own childhood, Draco knew (and had actually made notes) a few things that weren't open to discussion; he would care for his child himself, not through house-elves and/or nannies, and he would actually pay attention to it. There were a few other things, but he wasn't too sure about them yet; he had ordered all important/useful books on child rearing and parenting from Obscurus Books and expected them to arrive today.

Draco had never felt so insecure all his life. What if he did something wrong? What if something unexpected happened? What if his child turned out to be a person he couldn't stand? He had no role models, no one to look up to and talk about upbringing and education; he would have to do all of that himself.

But he had enough time for that, he calmed himself. Nine months, and then it'd be only a baby with little personality yet; it wasn't like he'd someday wake up and have a child at hand he couldn't relate to. And it wasn't really possible that, if he kept close contact to it, his child turned out to be someone like Potter, right? Even if it turned out to have a few character traits from Potter, it wasn't so bad, Draco thought. If – and he intended to – he managed to convey the right values to it, that could actually be positive. Draco didn't want it to become like his father or him, after all.

Nine months.

Or rather, seven and a few weeks; he was already more than a month along, after all.

And according to the books, it wouldn't be as easy as he had thought – and he hadn't thought it would be easy to begin with. Nausea and sickness were only the beginning – he'd get strange cravings for strange food combinations (pickles with jam? He shuddered at the very thought), some smells would cause immediate sickness, basically his whole hormones would go crazy, and not in the embarrassing, but in the end more or less acceptable way of puberty. He could look forward to crying marathons and silly laughter a mere second later; he would go from depressed to enthusiastic and back in less than a minute, he'd get several minor problems that normally weren't much of a problem, but added together very much were, such as swollen ankles and fingers, heartburn, stretch marks (that, at least, could be soothed away with a special potion), dry skin, more lethargy, the need of a toilet every few minutes, a strange craving for stranger things, troubled and light sleeping and many more.

After at least skimming through most of the books and guides Obscurus Books had sent him the day before, he had panicked. So much could go wrong; the tiniest thing could cause his baby to die in his womb, and if he didn't notice it quickly enough he could die of that. The possibility of a man literally losing a child was very low, mostly because it was physically nearly impossible, but the possibility of giving birth to a somehow (physically or psychically) disfigured child was much higher. Also, he'd have to expect his baby to at first be rather weak and fragile compared to a child born by a woman; the possibility that his baby just stopped breathing or even died suddenly was a lot higher, and due to that he would have to stay under healer watch a lot longer than a woman. Then there was the fact that he couldn't suckle his baby; as of yet, nobody had managed (or wanted) to invent a potion that would enable a man to produce milk, and Draco wasn't sure that was a bad thing. But that also meant that his baby's immune system would be very fragile the first six months; only after that time the baby would develop an own immune system. That meant he would have to keep his baby in a very safe environment and supervise the visitors very carefully; also, he would have to add a complicated potion to the specifically brewed baby milk. He supposed that, at least, wouldn't be too much of a problem; he had Snape, after all, and he was almost sure the man would help him. Unless he knew the identity of the father of the baby; then, that was very much questionable, but he wouldn't think about that until it became necessary.

He hadn't been so rational yesterday, though, and in his near-hysteria had called for Boddy and ordered him to put all alcohol, potions and potions ingredients, especially those on the "potentially dangerous to downright deathly" part of the list, in the greenhouse or a secluded section in the dungeons, seal everything against any danger and any contact with the outward world and additionally place a protection circle around them as wide as possible that Draco would be unable to cross until his pregnancy was over.

Afterwards, he had felt a little better.

At the moment he was actually feeling quite well; not panicky in the least, and all irrational fear of him falling down the stairs and thus killing the baby had almost vanished. It had tried to make place for worry about Potter and what he would do, but he had resolutely shoved all thoughts of him away until he knew more. Panicking would only be bad for his health and could possibly even reach the foetus growing inside of him; he should avoid everything too straining, including highly emotional situations such as great fear or danger. Adrenaline, he had learned, was not a good thing for growing babies.

Looking out of the window at the landscape blurring by, Draco sighed. Two days ago his life had been totally normal, apart from the fact that he had no friends and barely any human contact whatsoever; neither had he a job or more than a few tentative ideas towards what he possibly _could_ enjoy, besides had he been pregnant without knowing and considered moving to Alaska. Okay, so his life hadn't been normal, but it still had taken a huge turn to even-less-normal since then. He knew without a doubt that it wouldn't ever be normal, and in a way, he regretted the possibilities he may have taken that would be out of question now. But he couldn't really finish the thought; he couldn't turn a blind eye to the fact that he had created a tiny Malfoy, his heir, no matter the circumstances or other parent. And while he couldn't quite grasp it yet and also wasn't really happy about it yet, neither was he sad or, Merlin forbid, disgusted.

He was worried, though, about many things, most of all Potter. But he refused to think about that until he had talked to the law witch – which he would do now. The carriage was coming to a halt, and Draco looked out of the window to see a couple of cottage-like small houses with small gardens embed in between a few small, green idyllic hills, with the spires of the ancient buildings of the city and university in the background. Deboarding the muggle-disguised carriage, Draco looked for the house labelled "Rosebed"; that was where Aimee Ryan lived. She was on holiday at the moment, but he had sent her an owl yesterday and asked for just one consultancy and double pay, and after some coercion she had agreed.

And there it was; the third house surrounded by – of course – roses in every, not always matching, colours, not exactly tasteful or classy, but still somehow charming. Draco knocked on the door, and a witch who looked to be in her mid-thirties with brown, plaited hair and blue-dotted white houserobes opened the door.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy, I assume. Aimee Ryan. Pleasure to meet you."

"The pleasure is all mine," Draco replied courteously and they shook hands.

"Come in, come in; I sent the family away for the time of your visits, so you won't have to worry about interruptions or eavesdroppers. Tea?"

She led him into a study with books-covered walls and a heatless fire going happily. Draco smiled charmingly and sat in the offered armchair. "Yes, thank you. And that wasn't necessary; if I didn't trust your secrecy, I wouldn't have made the effort of bribing you into receiving me."

Mrs. Ryan laughed and levitated a previously prepared tray over and poured tea for both of them. "Yes; I was quite surprised that a consultation was that important to you. You about financed our next holiday with that."

"The price equals the value." Draco took the offered cup and took a sip of the reddish tea; it seemed to be some kind of fruit, but not too sweet. He liked it.

"I thought that about my usual price, which isn't half bad either, and you paid more than twice as much in advance! But let's talk about what you're really here for; how can I help you?"

Draco tilted his head in thought. He had made mental notes on what he wanted to tell her, but now he wasn't too sure; wouldn't it be better to tell her who the father was so she could make an educated guess of what the situation was going to be rather than telling her half the facts and basing his actions on the judgement of someone who didn't know the whole situation? And she was under professional discretion anyway; he could feel the spell she had invoked when entering the room flirring around them, secluding everything that happened between them from every intrusion, be it legilimency or Veritaserum or mere eavesdroppers.

"Well, you see it's like that. I… or let's start the other way around; how much do you know about me?"

"Well." She hesitated. "I know that your family's loyalty lay different then yours do now, though you sided with them for a while until you parted ways."

Draco smiled dryly. "That's one way of expressing it. Have you ever heard of my early animosity towards Harry Potter?"

"It was hard to avoid when it was plastered all over the newspapers shortly after the war. But, Mr. Malfoy, you should know I never judge my clients, and-"

Draco shook his head and she paused. "Don't worry, that's not what this is about. I know you are an absolute – and highly recommended, I might add – professional. But I think your advice will be a lot more useful if you know the whole picture, and the story is rather long, I'm afraid."

"That's true, Mr. Malfoy; I can estimate the situation a lot better if I know the whole picture. But so long as it's not relevant, I don't need any names or explanations."

"It is relevant, I'm afraid." And so Draco told her the whole story, everything. He was rather uncomfortable because he wasn't used to speaking so openly and long, without shortening or leaving out facts. But he reminded himself that he wasn't here to talk to a friend and get their opinion; he was consulting a professional under the Oath of Absolute Secrecy about his judicial situation. Her personal opinion wasn't relevant in the slightest, and during the whole story she didn't change her facial expression of professional interest. He couldn't see what she thought, and frankly, he didn't care.

When he was finished, he took a sip of his second cup of tea. Mrs. Ryan folded her fingers in thought, staring at some point behind Draco. "And now you want to know what your options are," she not quite asked.

"Well, I have several what-if-scenario questions, if you will. At first I'd like to know if that healer was correct; am I bound by law to tell the father of the child?"

She nodded. "Yes. This is one of the first laws the ministry passed back then when the witch hunts started." They both lowered their gazes in a second of memento of those horrible times. "Its original reason was, of course, to ensure that magical children wouldn't be orphaned even if their fathers weren't living with them and their mothers… died. Since then, nobody saw a reason to efface it. So, in short, you are bound by law to tell Mr. Potter of your child. If you don't and he finds out somehow, you lose all rights to the child and he can take it away from you backed by law, and you'll probably be sentenced to pay a fine, maybe even serve in prison."

Draco took a breath. "Well. I had hoped that wouldn't be the case. What about the other thing Sourstone said? That, if he denies the child, he loses all rights to them?"

"That's essentially true. Say, you tell Mr. Potter of your child, and Mr. Potter accuses you of lying but finds out later you were telling the truth and submits the case to the court, you only need to have evidence that you tried to make him believe you were telling the truth and the court will be on your side. A copy of your memory will be enough in that case. Still, that's a bit vague; if the court decides you should have been more clear or could have made more effort in making him believe you, things will get hairy. So, juridically speaking, the best case with the most chances of you winning should your case be submitted to the court is if Mr. Potter says something along the lines of "I don't want the child" or "I want nothing to do with the child". By saying that, he's verbally subrogating his rights to and of the child and, should he later decide that he indeed does want to have something to do with the child, he has no legal ground. Even the fact that he is Harry Potter and you are Draco Malfoy can't change that, you're totally on the safe side with that. The court will dismiss the case."

Draco nodded, a bit relieved. "That's good. But what if he doesn't do anything of that; if he believes me, decides that I'm not fit to raise his child and fights my rights?"

"Basically, he can't fight the rights of the birth parent. He could possibly if he had solid proof that your lifestyle was unbefitting of raising a child and that, in fact, letting the child stay with you would be harmful for them. But he could only win if you were leading an erratic life of sex, mind-altering potions and wild parties until the early hours of morning, if you had consciously and in disregard of the child endangered them during the pregnancy. So far you haven't, and if you continue like that, he won't succeed. The court – everyone, really – is always very reluctant concerning parting a baby and it's birth parent. Studies have shown that babies and children who get separated from their birth parent will have serious problems later; the possibility is high that they'll even end up as squibs even though they have magic, no matter how loving their other parent was. So they'll be very careful, no matter that it's Harry Potter who is the father, and most likely will not take the baby away from you. Additionally, you have never been a Death Eater and actually openly sided against You-Know-Who, so I think you're relatively safe. They _may_ force you to live together, though, if you can't come to an agreement. And if your case is really hard, they can put a restriction order on you that will forbid you to fight. Afterwards, if one of you acts unreasonably or is being deliberately difficult, that person can lose all their rights to the child."

"Merlin." Draco shuddered and decided then and there that he'd try everything in his might to prevent it came to that. "And what if I, say, am deliberately trying to make Potter give up his rights to the baby?"

She poured herself another cup of tea and took a sip before answering. "If you are subtle about it, they won't find out. But if they view the pensieve memory and decide that you in fact were trying to anger him so much that he did what you want, that can count as a reason to abate your contact to the child to a minimum because you apparently weren't acting with the best intent for your child."

Draco paled. So much for his plan. It was a good thing he had decided to be totally open with the witch. A very good thing. "They'll say that no matter what."

"I don't think so." Mrs. Ryan shook her head. "Sure, they will if you laugh at him and clearly provoke him, but I think if you honestly and calmly tell him what happened – and how it happened, in this case – and let him make his decision and he then tells you he doesn't want anything to do with the child, there is really nothing whatsoever he can do, even if he were Merlin himself. The facts would be clearly against him, and nobody could bend them, not even if they changed the law, because they will have to abide the law that was in effect during your confrontation."

Leaning back into the chair, Draco stared at the fire and thought. He couldn't very much go through with his plan of subtly nudging Harry into losing his rights of the child; not if he risked losing it by doing that. He'd rather die than risk that. He'd rather risk having to get along with Potter and possibly even compromise with him on the child's upbringing. He'd rather suck up to Potter than lose his baby – but if he ever came into the situation of having to suck up to the git to be allowed to spend time with his child, he could present the evidence to the court and argue that Potter was using the baby only as a means to humiliate him and clearly didn't have its best interest in mind, especially if the members of the court would be reluctant to break apart birth parent and child.

Sighing, Draco nodded and looked up again. "Is there anything else I should know?"

Mrs. Ryan shook her head. "Not yet. There are several laws concerning children and child rearing, but they're fairly obvious – keep them aligned to the Statute of Secrecy, don't abuse them and the like. You should also see that they enter a primary school or are homeschooled, but that's about it. Anything else concerning health laws will be arranged by your healer."

"Alright. Then I thank you for the hospitality and advice, and for accepting me during your holidays." They rose and shook hands.

"It was a pleasure, Mr. Malfoy. I hope that everything goes to your liking and you give birth to a healthy baby without complications."

She led him back to the door. "And if you have questions concerning child rearing later or should your case ever be submitted to court, do contact me. I'd enjoy being your law witch."

"I thought you had stopped taking cases to the court a few years ago."

"I did." She winked. "But this could be very interesting. Not that I wish that to you, mind you. And if you'd rather take someone more experienced, I know a few very competent colleagues."

Draco smirked. "I don't need to look very far for a competent law witch. I know all about your efficiency in court, Mrs. Ryan." Another reason why he had chosen her.

She returned the smirk and saluted, and, feeling a little better, Draco walked back to his carriage to drive to Oxford City.


	8. Chapter Seven: Laying the Foundation

_6 weeks, 2 Days_

The private healer was settled in the older part of Oxford, in a calm street with high houses built next to each other in long lines. He came from a family that had produced healers for centuries; he himself was one of the most wanted and most expensive healers for male pregnancy available. Draco had had to bribe first his secretary witch and then him to be accepted on such an early notice, though, curiously, Enam Gabriel hadn't accepted the money, merely taken the increased number of offered galleons as a sign that it really was urgent and had given him an appointment for the following day. Draco was a little wary; a person he couldn't buy was hard to control and could do something unexpected. But he had no choice, and he trusted the man's competence completely; not only because of the number of men he had helped give birth to healthy babies without dying, or because he had passed Healer School with flying colours, but especially because he had recently been put on the list of the Ten Best Healers for Male Pregnancy All Around the World as a replacement for some other guy who had quit his job due to pregnancy (and was now rumoured to be one of his patients).

He knocked on the blue door and immediately it was opened by a sullen looking witch. "Mr. Malfoy.", she said stiffly and turned around. "Follow me."

Draco rolled his eyes at her childish behaviour – Healer Gabriel had ordered her to give back the bribe she had accepted the day before – and was led through a narrow, but light corridor to a door, on which she knocked, opened it, called out "Mr. Malfoy" and then left without another word. Ignoring her, Draco entered a not too small room in which a man in his mid-forties without any hair and blue eyes, clad in a Healer's robe, just rose from his desk on which a plate stood.

"I'm sorry, I was just in the middle of eating-" he reached to shake Draco's hand and then indicated to a comfortable looking chair in front of his desk. Draco sat and his gaze wandered over the bookshelf lined from floor to ceiling with books, a comfortable looking ottoman by the wall opposite the door, a window displaying the ocean, several certificates on the wall of the door and came to rest on the big desk and the plate standing on it. Actually… Draco stared at the pork in gravy and started to feel a little queasy.

"Are you alright, Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco's gaze snapped up and he almost blushed. "Sorry, the smell just… I'm sorry, I'm not used to it yet."

Healer Gabriel nodded understandingly and banished the plate with a flick of his wand. "Don't worry, it's normal. Due to the increasing of hormones, especially the gestational hormones, your preferences of smell and food will change; that's why you will suddenly like strange foods mixed together, like cookies with tomato sauce and the like. How far along are you now?"

"Six weeks and three days." Draco had done a chart earlier that day and noted down the dates of every week passed, as well as the months.

"You know the exact date?", the healer asked curiously.

"Yes, well, I don't exactly… have intercourse on a daily basis." To say the least.

"Ah." Gabriel nodded and didn't inquire further. "Well, in about three weeks your senses of smell, taste, hearing and feeling will enhance. If you were that far along already, the smell of my food would have most likely made you throw up, so we're both lucky." He winked and Draco smiled weakly.

"So actually, you are here because you're searching for a Healer to accompany you through your pregnancy and birth, right?"

Draco nodded. "Ideally."

"Well, the truth is that I haven't accepted new patients for a while because I was thinking about taking a holiday; in this business, spontaneous holidays are nearly impossible." The healer winked again. "But yesterday showed me that you really are serious and that it must mean much to you. Why exactly were you so bent on talking to _me_? There are several other very good healers out there."

"Because I wanted the best. Others may be competent, but I want more. In your whole twenty-four years of practising healing, none of your babies ever died. Nobody else can offer that."

Healer Gabriel nodded. "That's true, but does not necessarily mean other healers are less skilled than I am." He obviously wanted to hear more.

"I want my baby to have the best of the best, and you are that. If I go to a less competent healer and my baby dies and later I find out that it, had I had a more experienced or just _better_ healer, would have survived…" Draco shook his head and lowered his gaze, glaring at the surface of Gabriel's desk.

The healer hummed. "A suffice motive. But you realise that's an argument many may use."

"But many do not have the means to afford it. I can afford the best, so why should I settle for anything else? I could pay you twice your usual honorary, or more. If that's not what you want, I can offer many more. Name your price."

Healer Gabriel tilted his head and smiled. "Actually, Mr. Malfoy, I think I'll just take you as a patient and see how it goes. If I want to take a holiday, it won't be too much of a hardship to come back for one or two hours every three weeks."

Draco was totally surprised. He had expected more questions, or some catch, but to be accepted just like that… well, he certainly wouldn't complain. He allowed himself to show his relieved smile. "Thank you."

Gabriel returned the smile and nodded. "So, if you don't have more questions we can start with the first examination, is that right?"

Draco nodded and stood to go lie on the ottoman Gabriel was gesturing him to. "I was at St. Mungo's the day before yesterday, but the healer there only found out about the pregnancy, he didn't do any tests."

"Okay then." The healer sat in a chair standing by the ottoman and pulled out his wand. "I'll be casting several charms to check on your blood pressure and count, to check whether you are carrying twins and to find out the gender and health of the foetus. I'll also check on the progress; if you didn't know the exact date of the conceiving I'd cast a charm to find out that, too, so I can check whether the foetus is progressing too slow or too quick. Are there any known hereditary diseases or genetically anomalies in your family?"

"Not as far as I am aware, no."

Gabriel nodded and started the spells. Draco couldn't interpret the lights and symbols that appeared in the air, and even if he could have figured them out in time, Gabriel was casting them way too quickly, rapidly muttering to a quill that flew over a parchment floating next to him, taking notes. Draco could only watch and feel the tingles and warm or cold waves ghost over and through his stomach and body, waiting for the result.

"Well, Mr. Malfoy", the healer said after a few minutes and sat back. He looked at the parchment where the quill was still scribbling, and when it was finished he picked it up and looked through the notes. "It looks like everything is fine, as far as I can tell at this point. Both you and the foetus are healthy; its progress is as it should be, as is yours. No hereditary diseases or genetic problems. You are a little low on especially iron and other vitamins, so I'll prescribe you a special potion that will take care of that. Five drops every morning in your tea, nothing more, nothing less, alright? I could also prescript you a potion for the morning sickness – by the way, you're a little early on that – but to be honest, I'd rather you try without one unless it's really bad. You should eat some dry bread in bed directly after you wake up and better not drink anything until you are up, and it should be fine. Apart from that, from now on you should try to eat healthy and varied food, with lots of vegetables and fruits, and if you feel any mad urges, indulge in them. Drinking a lot of milk is helpful too." Gabriel winked. "Now, do you want to know the gender? Some people want to wait a while or let it be a surprise."

Head swirling, Draco slowly sat up. That was a little too much information at once; so his baby was fine, he was fine, he should take a potion every morning and eat dry bread and not drink tea – or anything – in bed? He rarely ate in bed, not even when he was sick, because it made him feel like an invalid, but if it would get rid of the morning sickness… And anyway, he would eat real breakfast at the table like normally, the bread would merely be a snack, like medicine.

Did he want to know the gender? It'd be nicer to know, he figured; he could decide for a name early instead of calling it "it", or at least could refer to it as "he" or "she". Also, he didn't like the unexpected. He had always been bad with spontaneous decisions, and he reckoned knowing eight months early what he was to expect was better than any other option.

He nodded.

"Then I congratulate you on carrying a healthy boy, Mr. Malfoy." Gabriel shook his hand, and Draco nodded and smiled weakly.

"And now that that is settled, we can go about making your pass for natal and prenatal care."

"My what?" Draco had never heard about something like that before.

"That's a pass that I or generally all healer staff are going to fill after an examination. It lists your progress as well as the progress of the baby; the gender, the blood test results, both your weights and really anything and everything about the baby and your condition. You'll need to always carry it with you, in case there is an emergency or you get injured. The healers will then just check your pass and will know everything relevant."

"Oh. Okay then."

Gabriel nodded and gestured him back to his desk again, where he pulled a form for Draco to fill out of his desk and filled another one about the baby, like age – the actual conceiving date and _time_ – weight, and some healer gibberish Draco didn't understand. Draco filled out what he knew; not, for example, much about hereditary diseases or illnesses of his grandparents. But it appeared Gabriel could wave his wand a bit, cast a few charms and fill those things out himself, anyway. Then he puttered about some more before he copy-charmed everything and put it into a small, flat crystal that was almost round and as clear as glass and hanging on a thin black leather cord.

"Here. Put that around your neck, best as tight as possible so you can sleep with it and don't have to put it off anytime and thus risk forgetting it. Remember, your life and that of your baby boy can very much depend on it."

Draco nodded and knotted the cord around his neck and then cast a charm that would melt the knot, making it one endless cord. "Thank you."

Gabriel nodded. "Well, that's about it, I think. There are a few brochures in the waiting room I suggest you read, also with book tips; I presume you are going to read a few books on pregnancy?"

"I already have some, actually."

"Ah, very good." Gabriel seemed pleased. "It's always better to be prepared for everything. Should there be any questions, any at all, do not hesitate to contact me. Even if you feel like you're being silly; nothing in a pregnancy is silly. And do remember not to do any straining magic, or be close to places where a lot of stray magic flitters around, like Hogwarts or Stonehenge, at the beginning. Dark magic is also unhealthy for you, as are a number of potions and herbs; there is a list you should take a look at by the waiting brochures."

"I will. Thank you." Draco and Gabriel rose, shook hands, and then Gabriel accompanied him to the door, stopping at the waiting room to give him a bunch of brochures that were mostly advices what to read about this or about that.

"Our next appointment will be in three weeks then, same time. Good day, Mr. Malfoy."

"And to you, Healer Gabriel." Draco bowed his head in respect before walking back to his carriage to head home, feeling slightly light-headed and very relieved.


	9. Chapter Eight: And may your Hopes outweigh your Fears

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _The central struggle of parenthood is to let our hopes for our children outweigh our fears._
> 
> Ellen Goodman

_6 Weeks, 4 Days_

Forcefully keeping his fidgeting under control, Draco yet again controlled his looks in the mirror. There was no real need to; he was looking perfectly groomed, wearing neutral ice blue summer robes with subtle, dark green embroidery in the _art nouveau_.

It was two days after his trip to Mrs. Ryan and Mr. Gabriel; he had had two near-breakdowns and one temper tantrum since then. The tantrum had involved lots of shards because after hitting a pillow had proven unsatisfying, Draco had made his way into the kitchen to shatter some porcelain, successfully terrifying the house-elves.

He was going to Potter today. He would have to anyway, and as the past two days had proven, he wouldn't find any rest without having overcome that obstacle, one way or the other. The sooner the better, he had thought with unusual brashness, and now the carriage was waiting for him to get ready. He had sent Potter a letter the day before requesting – or rather, demanding – they meet, and Potter had of course spouted some suspicious nonsense and the usual stuff, but in the end had caved.

Draco didn't know whether he should be relieved or not. He didn't know what he was so afraid of; Potter throwing him out, calling him a liar, or accepting it? That last possibility seemed very unlikely, considering Potter's spontaneity and inability to think first before taking action; most likely were the first two actions, probably combined.

He only hoped everything would turn out well for him and the baby.

His son.

When he had no excuse to stall anymore, Draco sighed and went to the carriage. Kibby would come with him this time; for safety's sake, he had decided it'd be better. House-elves weren't considered valuable witnesses, but she could protect him should Potter use hexes that required strong counter-curses he better not use anymore.

Hating the way this whole situation crippled him and had reduced him to only one possible action that wouldn't even assure his winning, Draco entered the carriage, staring gloomily into nothing.

About half an hour later, the carriage came to a smooth halt in front of the Leaky Cauldron and Kibby timidly touched his shin to make him aware of their arrival. With a deep breath, Draco left the carriage with an invisible Kibby in tow.

Tom, the landlord, had already been notified and immediately led him to a secluded room without a fuss. Potter wasn't there yet, and so Draco ordered a cup of hot milk with honey and sat down, trying to look not nervous. He trusted Kibby to place the necessary privacy charms that would cover the standard ones every room at wizarding inns had.

Five minutes too late, the door opened and Potter entered – and he wasn't alone. Both Weasley and Granger were accompanying him, and they were all looking at him with hostility in their eyes and their arms crossed, not sitting down.

"So, what was so important you needed to talk to me in person about, Malfoy?", Potter asked coldly.

Draco made a pointed look at Granger and Weasley. "When I said alone, I meant alone, Potter."

"They'll stay, whether you like it or not."

"They will not. You and me, Potter, nobody else."

Potter shrugged. "Fine. Goodbye then." He turned around as if to leave, and Draco sat up straighter. "Leave now, Potter, and I'll make a one-page announcement in the _Prophet_ – and trust me, this is not something you'll want to be out in public." Most certainly not. Draco didn't care much; it would do nothing to his reputation. Potter, on the other hand… of course Draco had no real intention to go public, but he had to make Potter stay somehow.

Potter turned back to him and glared. "We don't trust you, Malfoy."

Draco rolled his eyes and mockingly adapted the pluralis maestatis. "And we don't require you to trust us, Potter. Send your shadows away and listen, that's all we want."

Potter's eyes narrowed. "You said alone, Malfoy, and yet you are in the company of a house-elf."

Not showing how surprised he was by Potter's attentiveness, Draco raised an eyebrow. "Kibby is here for my personal protection, if you must know, seeing as I'm unable to cast any charm stronger than a glamour at the moment."

Potter glared, but before he could say something Granger had whipped her wand out and cast a charm at him. Kibby squeaked and reacted with a strong protection charm even as Draco recoiled in shock, and the charm puffed into blue smoke at the shield. Draco jumped up and moved behind Kibby. "What the fuck, Granger!", he hissed, still shocked, heart pounding.

"That was a simple revealing charm," Granger the bitch said calmly. "It shows whether you have any harmful hexes or potions on you. Let me do it or Harry'll leave."

Draco bristled, but managed to calm his features. "Adaperio?"

She nodded coolly.

"Kibby?"

"Is being bad charm, Master Draco!", Kibby's voice resounded from in front of him. She sounded outraged, and Draco's heart warmed towards her. If Granger tried that again, she'd most likely find herself hexed beyond oblivion.

Shaking his head, he glared at them. But he knew this was his only opportunity; Potter would refuse any other meetings if this one blew, and he wasn't sure he could gather the courage a second time. Agitated, he ran a hand through his hair, thinking about what to do.

"Look, Potter. I'll put my wand on the table in front of you where you can see it. Do you feel save enough then?" He sneered, and Potter glared. "And how am I to know your house-elf won't do anything?"

Draco almost blackened his teeth. "She'll be visible and in your view as well."

Tense, Potter looked at them both, and Granger, glaring at Draco, leant to whisper something into his ear. Whatever it was, Potter shook his head and turned around to whisper something back, and after a furiously whispered conversation, both Granger and Weasley turned to leave. Weasley couldn't help threatening Draco, though. "If anything happens to him, Malfoy – anything at all – you'll regret it."

Draco sneered, not dignifying that with a reply, and they left.

As soon as they were gone, Draco sat down again and put his wand on the table. It was perfectly within reach and would be available should he need it, and Potter was really guileless for feeling safer because of that. At his nod into what he supposed was her direction, Kibby revealed herself and stood straight next to his chair, glaring as hard as she dared at Potter.

Potter didn't move a muscle. "Well, spill. I don't have all day."

"You'd probably rather sit down for this, but apparently you won't. Don't say I didn't warn you, though." Draco looked away, finding it easier to speak to the wall than Potter.

"Do you remember that girl from the Leaving Ball? Delia?"

"What about her?", Potter bristled defensively.

"Well…" Draco's shoulders slumped. "She wasn't exactly a girl." And so he explained everything to Potter – well, all important facts until his visit at St. Mungo's, which basically were "you got me knocked up the duff" in more words.

When he had finished, he took one anxious breath and glanced at Potter, who was staring at him coldly. "And I'm supposed to believe this?" He snorted.

Draco glared at him. "Do you think I'm making this up? Why should I?"

"I don't know and I don't care, Malfoy. You're sick, and you're probably trying to steal the money I inherited from Sirius or something!"

"Money? You think I want money from you?!" Draco hissed and got up. "I have more money than you can even dream of, Potter!"

"What do you want, then?!", Potter yelled at him.

Draco yelled right back. "Nothing! I want nothing from you!"

"Good, because you won't get anything!"

Draco glared. "So you don't want him, then?"

"I want nothing from you, Malfoy, least of all a ridiculous story you're only making up out of jealousy," Potter spat hatefully, and Draco almost cried out in frustration.

"This is real, Potter, how many times do I have to tell you? I am carrying your child, whether you like it or not!"

Potter snorted. "Even if that were true, I wouldn't want anything to do with it. You're awful and sick, Malfoy, and I hope you die the horrible death you deserve."

 _So I deserve death even after risking my life helping your side?_ , Draco thought bitterly, but didn't say it. This wasn't about him. "So you don't want him," he repeated, and he wasn't sure what answer he really wanted to get.

"How many times do I have to say it? No, I don't want him, nor you, nor your ridiculous lies. You are disgusting, and I'm leaving." With that final words, Potter whirled around and left, slamming the door after him.

With a tired sigh and suddenly feeling drained, Draco sank down into the chair again, barely noticing Kibby's nervous fluttering hands that were trying to make sure he was fine.


	10. Chapter Nine: The Ideas of Living

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Certainly, travel is more than the seeing of sights; it is a change that goes on, deep and permanent, in the ideas of living.
> 
> Miriam Beard

_8 Weeks_

Draco had enough.

Almost two weeks had passed since his meeting with Potter, and while he'd never heard from the git again, he had certainly felt his displeasure with Draco in different ways – Aurors had come to raid the Manor three times already, always in the middle of the night, always managing to scare Draco; not that he'd ever shown it.

They'd burst into his bedroom, push a parchment into his face that claimed that they had gotten an "anonymous tip" stating that Draco was in the possession of dangerous, illegal Dark Artefacts, and had proceeded to search his house loudly and thoroughly, leaving messes the house-elves took days to clean – he had had to call a few others from different properties of his to get rid of everything. And two to three of the aurors always stayed to "watch" him and took great pleasure in taunting and threatening him. They hadn't tried to hex him yet, but he knew it was only a matter of time – they'd gotten bolder each time, and his hands itched trying to curse them. But he knew if he tried anything, he'd endanger his son, and they'd immediately use the excuse to put him into prison.

He knew he couldn't close off the Manor completely; there was a law against that, unless he signed a contract that'd guarantee he'd have no contact with anyone; nobody to get in, nobody to get out, ever, not even house-elves, and let the ministry erect the wards for that. And he'd rather move to a different country before he trusted them.

And that was what he was going to do.

He had only faintly considered the thought before; never had he really intended to leave Britain. He wanted to raise his son here, wanted him to grow up in the manor their ancestors had built centuries ago and lived there ever since. Malfoy Manor was their home, full of countless of their histories and memories, and he wanted his son to know that, to _know_ that by finding out himself, not by listening to Draco talk about it.

So he'd leave it only temporary, for the time of his pregnancy and maybe the first year after, but not longer – of course, depending on what the situation was like.

And he couldn't go alone. He didn't trust foreign healers enough; he wouldn't know whether they were really skilled or just pretended to be, and his investigators had no experience with different countries. And then there was the fact that if he told anyone where he was going, there was a chance they'd get him somehow for pretentious reasons, and he didn't want that. He wanted to vanish completely, to know he wouldn't be disturbed, to go through this pregnancy in peace.

Good thing he had an appointment with Gabriel tomorrow. He'd ask him to come with him.

After he had made this decision, he called the house-elves and ordered them to prepare for the Manor to go into Lockup and tried to be not too pessimistic, not planning for the case that Gabriel didn't want to go. He'd just have to persuade him, no matter how unlikely it was he'd succeed. He'd have to _try_.

The next day at half past three in the afternoon, he got into the carriage with the firm intention to make Gabriel come with him. He wouldn't threaten him; he had pondered it, but came to the conclusion it would only make the man not do it. Gabriel was a strange person, and he could only be persuaded with honesty and maybe a good portion of pity. Draco knew he wasn't above begging anymore.

Twenty minutes after he had gotten on the carriage, they arrived in front of the house Gabriel worked and probably lived in. Taking a deep breath to gather his courage, Draco left the carriage and knocked on the door.

It was Gabriel who opened him, not the moody secretary.

"Ah, Mr. Malfoy! You're a little early. Come in, come in."

Draco smiled and returned the greeting, then followed Gabriel into his office. The healer headed directly for the ottoman, motioning for Draco to sit down on it and sitting on the chair next to it himself. When they were both comfortable with a nice cup of tea – milk, in Draco's case, who had recently found tea made his skin crawl – Gabriel inquired about his health.

"Well. I'm fine, I guess. Just tired, and last night I got the idea to mix pineapples with shredded cheddar and ranch dressing and liked it…" He had, and it was rather embarrassing. Cookie had looked at him with horrified eyes and checked for his temperature when he had mixed that up in the middle of the night.

Gabriel grinned. "Fascinating. It'll only get worse, it's rather funny – and you'll probably feel ill whenever you think of one of those mixes afterwards. If you feel the urge to eat non-foods, though, contact me – there could be something wrong with your system."

"Non-foods? Like chairs or something?"

"Grass, dirt, stones, metal and the like. Just anything that isn't considered normal food – but if you want to lick coal, go ahead. That's not unusual. Just don't chew it."

Horrified, Draco only managed a weak nod. Licking coal? Dear Merlin… pregnancy really made people mental, did it?

"Well then, I'll check you both then – please open your robe."

Gulping, Draco did, and sat still while Gabriel went through a couple of charms. The quill that had been there the first time took notes again, and when he was finished, Gabriel nodded, satisfied. "Everything is fine. The little one has a heartbeat now; do you want to hear it? It's twice as fast as yours right now." After Draco nodded, feeling a little tentative but also curious, Gabriel took Draco's hand and put it on his stomach before casting a charm, and suddenly Draco more felt than heard a very quick heartbeat.

It was a very strange feeling. Before, he had known there was a child inside of him, but it had still seemed rather abstract, even though he had felt the effects of morning sickness and recently the food craving – but to actually hear it, to know that was his son, a living being growing inside of him…

Draco blinked and swallowed, trying to get rid of the tingling in his eyes.

"He has a face and small hands and feet already – they look more like paddles, but they're there." Gabriel informed him almost tenderly, and Draco nodded quickly. "When you take your hand away, the sound will fade."

 _Not yet_ , Draco thought and kept it there. It was rather… nice, and he suddenly felt a strong surge of protectiveness. _I'll do everything to prevent you from being harmed_.

Gabriel let him have his moment, busying himself with the parchment, making notes or just pretending to, Draco didn't know or care much.

He had a baby.

Letting out a shuddering breath, Draco shook his head and reluctantly took his hand away. Immediately, the sound faded, but he liked to pretend he still felt it somehow.

Then he cleared his throat, and Gabriel looked up at him again and smiled. "If you're ready, I'll put the data in your pass."

Draco nodded and pulled his robe away from his throat where the crystal lay, warm from his skin.

Gabriel copycharmed whatever he had written and put it into the crystal with the tip of his wand, and even though it was a very vulnerable position, Draco didn't feel threatened at all. That might have been stupid, but it was highly unlikely Gabriel wanted to hurt him. Draco had had his past searched thoroughly, and Gabriel had nothing against purebloods – or muggleborns for that matter.

"Good. You can dress again, that was all."

Doing his buttons again, Draco thought, _Now or never_ , and opened his mouth. "Healer Gabriel, I… I have a problem."

Instantly, Gabriel looked worried and leaned a little closer, but not invading his private space. "What is it?"

"Uhm, I… you wanted to go on holidays, right?"

"Well, yes, but as I said, that's no problem…"

"No, that's not what I meant, I… I have had problems with the ministry recently; I'm not involved in anything illegal or something, but they like to think so, and I'm thinking of leaving Britain for my pregnancy so I won't be under too much stress, and I thought if you wanted to go on holidays anyway you could, maybe, accompany me… I'll pay you, of course."

Frowning in confusion, Gabriel leant back. "I think you better tell me the whole story… why do you have problems with the ministry?"

Draco fidgeted and looked away, out of the window to the soothing ocean. He hadn't really wanted to tell Gabriel the whole story, but it looked like he may have to to persuade him, and if Gabriel would really stay with him, it was strategically better he knew everything from the beginning anyway. It was only hard to trust, even though there was the patient–healer confidentiality.

He cleared his throat. "Well, it's a rather long story, but in short… the father of my child isn't too happy with me or the fact that we procreated, and he seems to think I need to be punished. He has some influence and has been sending anonymous tips to the aurors or possibly even said something, and they keep making surprise raids in the middle of the night. I'm really not sure what he's going to do next, and the stress of not knowing whether I'll be woken up by strangers bursting into my bedroom isn't too beneficial for my sleep."

Gabriel shook his head, but not in denial as Draco had first thought, but in dry amusement. "You're really something, Mr. Malfoy. What did you have in mind?"

In total disbelief that he may have persuaded the healer already – he had thought it would take much more – Draco only managed to stammer, "Uhm, I don't know, Egypt…? Or New Zealand? Galicia?"

Gabriel grinned. "I'll think about it."

"Really?" Draco stared, then shook himself. "I mean, great! That's awesome, I never thought you'd… I'll provide board and lodging, of course, and pay you, and if you want to bring someone with you that's no problem at all…" He was babbling, and he knew it, but he couldn't stop it. He was totally astonished that Gabriel seemed to actually consider it, without even asking for names or more details… it was Gabriel who was something, not Draco.

"I'll owl you about it, okay?", Gabriel smiled, and Draco nodded hastily. They got both up and shook hands, and before he knew it, Draco was on the street again. Still feeling a little dazed, he entered the carriage and headed back to the manor.

 _Merlin_ , he thought. _Of all the skilled Healers out there I got the craziest of them!_


	11. Chapter Ten: When it feels like my dreams are so far

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _And I laid my head back down, and I lift my hands and pray to the only god, I pray to the only god—I know now you're my only hope_
> 
> Switchfoot – Only Hope

_8 Weeks, 1 Day_

Draco had ordered the carriage to stop before leaving the grounds, and when it did, he climbed out and took one last look at Malfoy Manor. It looked normal, and after a long moment, Draco sighed and got back into the carriage.

He was on his way to the Ministry, where he'd meet up with Gabriel and his wife and daughter.

Yesterday evening, only two hours after Draco had made his proposal, Gabriel had owled, and Draco had invited him and his wife over to talk about the details. It had been rather nice, actually, and Draco was sure he'd get along with fine with both of them. Cara Gabriel was a dark-skinned, tender woman who worked as a masseuse and was a fan of historical books; a hobby Draco shared. They had decided they'd go by first names if they were going to live together for the next approximately eight months, and together they had talked about their destination.

Cara had originally wanted to go to Egypt, but had then agreed with her husband to go to New Zealand; Draco had kept silent, because they were doing him a huge favour already and he was glad they were coming at all; where to wasn't that important. But he liked New Zealand better as well, not only because of the small cottage his mother had passed on to him she had inherited from her grandmother. He liked the climate, and New Zealand was one of the most beautiful countries he had ever seen as well. They hadn't been there often, but the few times they had, it had always impressed him greatly.

Draco hadn't expected it to be so hard to leave the Manor. Sure, he had lived there all his life, but they had left rather often, especially before he had gone to Hogwarts, and it had never felt like this. The past two weeks hadn't been comfortable, especially not after the second visit of the aurors – he had always been a little jumpy and hadn't slept well, expecting them to come back. He had thought it would be relieving to go away for good – at least for the next few months, maybe even a year.

But it wasn't. It felt like he was parting with an important part of him he couldn't name; maybe it was the remains of his past. He wasn't saying goodbye to only a house, but to everything he had associated it with – comfort, home, and his parents. His one refuge.

And the fact that he had to leave the country he had risked his life to save to feel safe himself was very bitter. He couldn't even appreciate the irony properly.

Still, Draco refused to be so pessimistic and forced himself to think of the positive aspects – it rained less in New Zealand (at least where they were heading), and he'd actually have a double summer, seeing as seasons were reversed down there. Also was New Zealand extraordinarily beautiful; he'd certainly enjoy his visit, and he actually wouldn't mind bringing up his son there too much – if he had to.

"We is there, Master Draco!" Kibby's squeak pulled him out of his thoughts, and Draco blinked.

"Oh. I see. Well, Kibby, I trust you and Boddy to keep the Manor in order. And remember to put the wards up – let nobody in, nobody. Not even Ministry officials or people that were allowed in before; not even animals. Not even me, do you understand? If I want to come back, I'll call you to me before, and Cookie and Moonie will be with me. Understand?"

Kibby nodded earnestly, but despite her outward composure, Draco could see she was about to cry. With a sigh, he pulled out his handkerchief and gave it to her. "Keep that for me until I come back, okay?"

She sniffled and nodded, and before she could breakdown, Draco hastily left the carriage. He had done the same for Boddy and knew they would probably go to sleep snuggled to his handkerchiefs, but he didn't mind – the poor things weren't the youngest, and they had never had to close the Manor up before. If they got a little comfort from his handkerchiefs, he'd gladly give it to them; it was a tradition of the Malfoys his grandmother had taught him. House-elves were only servants, yes, but they had also been with him always, served him without grumbling even though they knew what his father had thought of him, and he wouldn't forget that.

Feeling slightly sardonic, Draco let the device he had to enter before he would be let into the Ministry give him a badge that read Draco Malfoy, Pest, and was silently amused on how the wizard that checked his wand eyed him and the badge suspiciously as if they were up to something. Beware of Draco Malfoy and his evil badge!

He was too early yet for his meeting with the Gabriels, because he had to go to the House and Home Department before and give them his signed form that Malfoy Manor was closed up. Otherwise, they could legally break the wards and go in, claiming to be suspicious he was doing something illegal or the like. He had a contact in the ministry owl him the form yesterday evening and had his law wizard look it over; everything was perfectly correct and they had no reason or right to refuse.

"How can I help you?", a bored looking wizard asked before he noticed the badge and suddenly became alert, looking at him in suspicion.

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled a rolled parchment out of his sleeve. "The forms for my manor going into complete lockdown. My law wizard looked them over and they're in perfect order; if you have any problems, contact him. Don't bother trying to 'lose' them; I sent copies to the Auror Department and the Minister." Without bothering to watch the gaping wizard's reaction, Draco turned away and walked over to the Department for Intercontinental Travels.

"Draco!" Cara waved at him, and, smiling slightly, he waved back. On her hip sat a little girl with reddish-blond hair and big green eyes, and after he shook Enam's hand and got a one-armed hug from Cara, he earnestly gave her his hand. "I'm glad to make your acquaintance, milady." The girl and Cara giggled, and then Cara introduced them: "Raleigh, this is Draco, Draco, this is our daughter Raleigh." Draco nodded gravely and Raleigh showed him a toothy grin.

They stood together for a while, chatting about this and that, and yawning. Because of the time difference, they hadn't slept the night; there was a twelve-hour-difference between London and where they were heading, Kaiarara Bay on Aotea Island, and it'd take some time to get used to that.

"Ah, it's time", Enam said after another glance at the clock, and together the group headed for the space that had been given to them, arranged by Enam. It was more of a chamber than a room, and inside were a witch and a wizard. The shocked expressions they showed when they recognised Draco revealed that Enam had followed his advice and not mentioned his name. For a brief second he wondered why really everyone seemed to recognize and dislike him immediately, but then he concentrated on the expressions they'd wear when they realised he would be the one to travel in the pregnancy-safe travelling goo. Cara besides him was just telling Raleigh to go to him; children travelled safer through the goo than portkeys, and they had decided they'd rather spare her the horror of being ripped through space by a hook behind her navel.

"Uhm, I'm Mareen and will assist you for the goo, and that's Coryn, he'll activate your portkey," the witch managed to say.

Cara nodded friendly and went to kiss Draco, who blinked in surprise, and Raleigh on the cheeks. "Have a good trip, you two!" Then she followed Enam, who patted them both on the shoulders, to the portkey, an oak leaf made of silver, because silver contained the magical energy needed for international portkeying best.

The witch gaped at them and then looked back at Draco, who ignored her and went nonchalantly over to the basin of neon green goo, holding Raleigh's hand. They both took off their cloaks and shoes, and Draco shrank them and put them in his pocket. Then he took Raleigh's hand, who looked very enthusiastic at the prospect of jumping into a basin full of horribly coloured goo. And secretly, Draco felt rather curious himself. Tentatively, he poked the stuff, and it was warm and jelly-like. He shuddered at the prospect of it getting into his hair and ears, but there was nothing to be done against it, and with a resigned sigh, he stepped into it. The witch helped Raleigh climb after him, and he took her in his arms; the basin was too deep for her to stand.

Still looking at him in disbelief, the witch gave them each a metallic-tasting breathing candy that'd supply them with oxygen during the time they'd stay inside the goo and instructed them not to surface until the light turned red again. Then she cast a few charms and told them to sink back.

Draco sank on his back, closing his nose with one hand and holding Raleigh, who was copying him and holding her nose as well, with the other and watched the red light above them blink into blue. Were they travelling already? They had to be, but somehow, he felt nothing. It was rather fascinating.

Raleigh visibly had fun with the goo, she kicked her legs and waved with her free hand and generally seemed not to waste a thought on the fact that they were in the middle of a powerful travelling charm. It was rather cute, and the thought of having one of those on his own – a child – seemed another bit more appealing.

The light above them glittered and slowly turned purple and then red again. Draco nudged Raleigh and together, they more or less surfaced – the goo seemed almost reluctant to let them go and clung to them in a thick coat. There were figures around them and hands that tried to help them out of the basin, but they were too slippery. But finally, one of them thought of using a charm, and they were scorgified – at least enough to see clearly again. Draco let go of his nose and grimaced at Cara and Enam's amused expression. Raleigh, who was sitting on his hip, was giggling loudly. Behind her parents stood two wizards who looked amused as well, and one of them levitated Draco and the girl out of the basin. The other scorgified them again before they touched the ground, most likely to prevent them from slipping, but Draco still felt the stuff in his ears and everywhere, really. It was rather disgusting, and he really didn't want to know what he looked like.

"Welcome to New Zealand", one of the wizards said, and that was that.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Lost in my dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _You tell me that you love me but you never want to see me again_
> 
> Unkle Bob - Swans

_10 Weeks_

Draco lay in bed, feeling lethargic and listless. He was exactly ten weeks pregnant now, and he couldn't believe how much his life had changed since that fateful evening at Hogwarts.

He was pregnant. He had a son growing inside of him; his life would never be the same again. The pregnancy not only made him feel sick in the morning – even though he had eaten his bread already – it also made him feel sluggish through the day, and his hunger for pineapple with cheddar and ranch dressing hadn't waned. Quite the opposite, really; he had grown addicted to it. And to chocolate ice cream with chocolate chunks, whipped cream and olives all mixed together. He knew that was disgusting, but the mere thought made his mouth water. Also, his hearing sense had improved, not something he enjoyed; Raleigh's screaming sounded painfully shrill in his ears, and whenever she showed signs of a temper tantrum, he quickly fled the scene. Thankfully, that didn't happen too often.

For the next at least seventeen years he would be bound to the yet tiny boy that made him change so much already; would have to build his life around him, accommodate for him, make room. Whenever he wanted to do something, he had to mind his son. Sometimes, that sounded horribly intimidating to him, but other times, for example when Raleigh climbed into his lap and cuddled to him so trustfully, he thought it was the most wonderful thing to ever happen to him.

Maybe it would always be like that, he pondered.

He was just about to think about the other aspects that had changed in his life when someone knocked on his door and a red-blond head poked in. Seeing he was awake, Raleigh, still in her nightgown, squealed and ran over to climb onto his bed – for some reason, she loved his bed – and when he growled and hid under the covers, she enthusiastically followed him. They met in the semidarkness, and she looked at him with serious eyes and said "wakey wakey Dray!"

Draco crunched up his nose. "Good morning, Ray."

She smiled and crept closer to cuddle to him.

"What do we have here? Two sleepyheads? Come on, you two, it's time to get up!" Cara's amused voice sounded from the outside, and Raleigh giggled and hid her face under his arm. For a second, Draco pondered staying in bed, but he knew he'd never succeed anyway.

That was another major thing that had changed in his life: he wasn't alone anymore. Not only had he started corresponding with Snape and Dumbledore (at the same time, because intercontinental correspondence wasn't as easy as simple owling), but also not only did he live in the same house as Enam, Cara and Raleigh, he lived _with_ them. They had included him in their family life as if he had been there all along; as if he was a long lost brother – or even a son, with the way Cara mothered him in her tender way.

With a sigh, he pulled the blanket down and blinked into the bright morning light. Cara had pulled the curtains back and was now sitting on the food of his bed, a tray floating in the air next to her.

"Get up, I brought you breakfast," she ordered with a smile, and with an exaggerated sigh, Draco sat up and leant back into the pillows. With a flick of her wand, the tray floated towards Draco and he saw hot chocolate and several small dishes; pineapple, peach, sliced apple, ranch dressing, cheese sticks, white bread, bacon, and something he didn't recognize.

"What is that?"

He took his spoon and poked at the faint beige, shredded stuff. It looked like some vegetable.

"Gari, that's pickled ginger. A Japanese dish served with Sushi – anyway, ginger is good for your lethargy. Eat it."

Draco sniffed carefully, but it didn't make him feel ill, as some dishes did nowadays, and so he took a careful bite. It tasted sweet and a little hot at the same time, but overall not bad. He decided it was edible.

Raleigh, still under his blanket, giggled and climbed over his shins; she looked like a moving lump from Draco's point of view.

"So, how are you feeling today?" Cara asked while Draco coated one apple slice with ranch dip. He shrugged and sucked the dip from the apple before dunking it in again. He loved ranch dip.

"You're ten weeks along now, aren't you?"

Draco nodded again, still busy with his apple-ranch-breakfast. _This is awesome_ , he thought absently.

"Then he is able to feel your feelings now. Small ones don't hurt, but he will be aware of what's going on inside of you now. So you better not be depressed from now on!" Playfully, she wagged her finger at him, and Draco grinned.

"I doubt that'll happen, not with that little sunshine around." Meaningfully he looked down at the lump that was vacating on his shins, but Rayleigh probably hadn't listened.

"She is, isn't she?" Cara smiled wistfully. "And you have another one on the way, so no reason to wallow!"

"Another one? Please, you make it sound as if I were a baby producing machine! He is my first child and will probably stay the only one, with the way things are going."

Cara was silent for a while before she asked softly "Draco, don't you think it's time to talk about it?"

Not looking at her, Draco pretended he didn't know what she meant. "About what?"

Again she was silent, before she reached to poke her daughter. "Raleigh, honey, go to your dad, he'll help you dress."

Raleigh made a whining noise low in her throat, but reluctantly moved under the blanket until she could climb off the bed. Without looking back, she bounced out of the room to search for her father. Waving her wand, Cara closed the door before turning back to Draco.

"About the father of your child. I mean, it's obvious he doesn't want anything to do with you two, but there has to have been something; I can't imagine you jumping into bed like that with just anyone… and if he hurt your feelings, it's better you talk about it."

Draco sighed and lowered his spoon. "It's not like that, not really. We weren't in a relationship or something, he didn't even know…"

"What?", she asked tenderly when he paused mid-speech.

Thing was, Draco wasn't sure if he should tell her. He knew she was a very caring woman and probably liked him, but if she knew the whole story of his deceit… and it had been a deceit, he knew that now. He had had no right to invade Harry's privacy like that, even though Harry had violated his first by not giving back his journal and even trying to force it open even though it had been very obviously charmed. Draco still had used him, and he had deserved the things Harry had said to him.

And this was the closest thing to family he had gotten in a long time.

Cara put a hand on his arm. "Tell me, Draco."

His shoulders slumped. He knew he'd have to tell them sometime, and it was probably better to get it over and done with now, when it wouldn't hurt too much if they turned away.

So he sighed and told her the whole story, debriefing his previous relationship with Harry, his last year at Hogwarts and the interaction between them during the war, ending at the talk he'd had with Harry a little over three weeks ago.

When he had finished, there was a long silence. Draco didn't look at her, unable to face her expression right now, and instead stared into the ranch dip. It still looked delicious, but he didn't feel like eating it anymore.

"Oh, Draco," Cara said finally, and it sounded like a sigh. And suddenly she put her arms around him and pulled his heads to rest on her chest above her heart in a motherly embrace. "You were so young, and you had to go through so much… I'm sorry."

Draco blinked, confused. "But I…"

"No, hush. But nothing. You didn't deserve what happened to you; you were not even adult for most of the awful things that happened to you! You're very strong, Draco, to have come out of that such a fine young man. Most other people would have crumbled under the pressure, but you went on and on, all on your own… but you're not alone anymore, okay? You have me, and Enam, and Raleigh, and we're with you. Okay?"

Feeling slightly stupid and trying to swallow around the lump in his throat, Draco nodded.


	13. Chapter Twelve: My Skin

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I'm a slow-dying flower in the frost-killing hour, sweet turning sour and untouchable…_
> 
> Natalie Merchant – My Skin

_12 Weeks_

Draco stood naked in front of the mirror, turning left and right and back again, regulating the brightness of the light with flicks of his wand. And there was no doubt – he had a stomach. No matter which way he turned, no matter how bright the light was – Draco was undoubtedly, undeniably, visibly pregnant.

And he broke down.

He hadn't cried in nearly two weeks, and it had only been a few sniffles and tears then; now, fully, hard sobs shook his body, and he quickly dove under his covers to curl into a tight ball.

He didn't know what was so horrible about a stomach, but suddenly he felt terribly overwhelmed. In a way, these past four weeks had been like a different life, like a dream; sure, he had been very aware of his pregnancy and situation, but suddenly it all came crushing down on him in one big realisation: it was real.

He was pregnant, yes, but he was pregnant because he had tried to trick Harry Potter, who had stolen his private journal. And his whole plan had backslashed horribly, ending in him being pregnant with a son who wasn't wanted by his other father only because of Draco. He had had to leave England in order to find enough peace for his baby to survive the pregnancy; what would it be like if his son attended Hogwarts?

And, Merlin, what was Draco going to tell him? "Sorry, your dad hates me and doesn't want you"?

Would he even be able to attend Hogwarts? Would people let him? Or would they remember the Malfoys, remember his father, and ostracise him for his name similar to what they had done with Draco his last year at Hogwarts?

Merlin, and what would it do to his son to cross paths with Potter's other children; the half-brothers and half-sister he'd no doubt have, knowing that Potter had wanted them, but not him?

Draco knew only too well what it was like to be rejected by Potter and ignored by his father, and the two of them combined had to be twice as bad. He only hoped his son wouldn't want to try to gain Potter's attention, for he would only succeed with negative behaviour, Draco knew that firsthand, and that would be hollow and maybe even worse than not having his attention at all. Or maybe not.

Slowly, his tears waned, but his anxiety did not.

What did he know about parents, about being a father? His own mother and father hadn't exactly been the perfect examples. They hadn't been bad; they had cared for him and made sure he had everything he needed, but there had always been something he had missed.

But he didn't know what; he only knew as a child he had sometimes felt so lonely he had cried, even though he wasn't alone. How was he supposed to make sure his son didn't feel like that if he didn't even know what had caused it?

With one last sniffle, Draco decided he certainly wouldn't find out by lying in his bed and crying like the child he couldn't and wouldn't ever be again.

Sighing, he rubbed his eyes and went to take a long bath and think about things.

The hot, lavender-scented water soothed him, and, after pondering his situation for a while, he came to the conclusion that he needed to talk to someone. And the best person he could think of was Cara; he wouldn't feel too stupid asking her, and she was very intelligent where emotions were concerned.

Immediately, he felt better, and after soaking for a while he left the cooling water to go about his usual after-bath-routine. Afterwards, he went downstairs to have a snack (ranch dressing with olives and peach) and write a letter to Snape. Enam, Cara and Raleigh were still at the beach; he had been with them earlier, but the wind had been a little too cool for his taste and he had walked home earlier to warm up, leading to his breakdown.

So far, he hadn't told anyone else of his pregnancy. But his potion vial was coming to an end, and Snape was the best brewer he knew. And if he wanted the potion, he would have to tell Snape why; it was only polite, not to mention not telling Snape was as good as a written invitation to be nosy.

He couldn't deny feeling a little tentative, but in the end just wrote that he was slightly pregnant, and if Snape could please brew this potion for him? Seeing as he was unable to do it himself because some of the ingredients were potentially harmful for people in his condition?

If Snape refused to, he could always ask Enam or Cara; it wasn't a too complicated potion and he could watch from a safe distance and from within a safety bubble, if they were really bad at brewing.

He had just finished his letter and sent his owl to the nearest intercontinental post office when Raleigh came bounding into the room, loudly calling his name. Just one step in front of him, she halted to put her arms carefully around his legs. Cara had explained his condition to her as understandable as she could, because Raleigh was a very enthusiastic girl and had apparently taken a linking to Draco from first sight.

"Dray I brought you something!", she babbled and held, beaming up at him, her flat palm to him on which a blueish-grey stone lay.

"That's really beautiful, thank you," Draco smiled and took the stone. It was rather nice looking, and it reminded him of his childhood, when he had raided the gardens looking for small treasures. If he had found this stone, it would certainly have been one of his most precious ones.

He pulled Raleigh up into his lap and gave her a parchment and a magical colour-pencil that'd change to the colour she told it and watched as she drew a picture of under the sea, with lots of fishes and other creatures.

More than a week – he was exactly three months along now – later he still hadn't heard from Snape, and he was slowly getting anxious. The international post wouldn't take more than two days to arrive, he knew that, and the potion took only two to three hours to brew and then a day to soak. Snape should have sent it already if he was going to do it, and if not, he could at least have answered his letter, if only to tell him what an idiot he was. And Snape didn't even know who the father was, so there was no rational way to explain this strange absence of contact to Draco.

He refused to consider whether Snape would simply abandon him.

Lost in his thoughts, Draco slowly wandered down the stairs. And he had just started to feel a little lighter again; he had finally talked to Cara about his parents, and she had said many wise things, but the gist of it was that since Draco cared so much, he certainly couldn't make the same mistake as his parents. That didn't mean his parents hadn't cared for him; she didn't know that. It simply meant they at least had had no idea how to show it, or hadn't even really been aware that they weren't showing it, or that it was important. They were probably just oblivious, she had said. And since Draco was anything but and, in fact, rather worried about the wellbeing of his son, he wouldn't be. Besides, from the way he treated Raleigh, she very much doubted he would or could make a mistake. He would make mistakes, she had warned, there was no doubt of that. But every parent did that, and it was important how he coped with that knowledge. She had recommended a book she had read when they had decided to adopt that she had found very useful and promised to get it for him. Draco decidedly felt better now.

He had just sat down for dinner when there was a knock on the door. He still wasn't used to opening the door and probably would never be; at the Manor the house-elves tended to visitors and so far they hadn't had a visitor here. But the cottage was really small; so small in fact that he had sent Moonie home again because there was not enough to do for two house-elves, but that also meant that Cookie had a lot to do.

Confused and lightly alarmed, he got up again to open the door; the cottage was far away from any civilisation, and it was protected from muggle eyes. It was unlikely anyone would come here by accident.

He opened the door and stared. Blinked and stared some more, until Snape rolled his eyes, annoyed, and let himself in, muttering something that sounded very much like "stupid boy".

Draco closed the door and turned around to face Snape, who was dryly taking in the small hall they were standing in.

"What are you doing here?"

Snape looked him up and down, and Draco was relieved his tiny stomach didn't even need the concealing of robes yet. Immediately after he had thought that, he felt a stab of shame.

 _There is no reason to be ashamed_ ,he told himself and questioningly raised one eyebrow.

Snape shook his head to himself before saying mysteriously, "You have no idea, have you?"

"About what?"

"I guessed as much." Snape sighed. "Can we sit down?"

Draco pursed his lips. "Let me tell the others first. Come, I'll introduce you."

Ignoring Snape's protest that that wasn't necessary, he marched into the dining room that was also the living room and the biggest room of the cottage. Cara and Enam looked curious and Raleigh froze in mid-movement, staring open-mouthed at the dark figure that was his former potions professor.

"This is Severus Snape, my former potions teacher and a friend. Severus, this is Enam, my healer, his wife Cara and their daughter Raleigh." Enam and Cara rose to shake hands with Snape and exchange greetings while Raleigh stayed where she was, stealing shy glances at Snape. Draco stared at the freshly cut pineapple pieces and the ranch dressing.

"You don't mind if I take a snack with me, do you?" Snape shook his head, face expressionless, and Draco explained to Enam and Cara, "Severus came to talk to me. Do you want something to eat, too?"

"I just had breakfast, thank you," Snape declined dryly, and, shrugging, Draco made himself a bowl of pineapple with shredded cheddar, olives and, of course, ranch dressing. Raleigh poured the ranch dressing for him with obvious delight.

"Better don't look too close" Cara advised behind him, and Draco turned around to meet Snape's gaze that was a mix of disgust and horror and blinked. He knew it didn't sound too tasty, but it in fact was totally awesome in his opinion. He couldn't get enough of it, and the more ranch dressing the better.

Waving at the small family, he walked upstairs into his room, Snape following him, and closed the door behind them. Motioning for Snape to take seat in one armchair, he sat down into the other and started to eat his snack.

Snape shifted uncomfortably, finally sighed and pulled something out of his pocket that turned out to be a bunch of papers – the _Daily Prophet_ – when enlarged back to original size.

"You should really read this. I didn't think it was important enough for you to know about, just gossip, but with what you told me in your last letter… read them."

Apprehensive by Snape's untypical behaviour, Draco reached for the first paper, blinking when his own gaunt face looked up at him. _That must have been taken shortly after the war_ , he thought. He couldn't remember.

 _ **Draco Malfoy, chased out of the country**_ , the headline read. The following article painted him in a very different light than he was used to; he was described as a tragic hero who stood up against his parents and the Dark Lord only to be used and cast aside by the light side. It described his ostracism this last year at Hogwarts in great detail; so detailed, in fact, that he wondered how someone could have noticed so much without _him_ noticing.

The headline in the next paper made his blood run cold.

 _ **Draco Malfoy, impregnated then thrown away by Harry Potter!**_ with the subtitle _The Boy Who Lived To Be A Heartless Bastard_?

With trembling fingers, Draco hastily thumbed through the paper until he found the article and skimmed it over. Relief overcame him when he realised that they didn’t know much more; whoever had come to this information, they knew nothing of Delia. In fact, the article portrayed him as a heartbroken young man who had thought he had finally found love in the arms of Harry Potter, only to be cruelly discarded when he became pregnant.

His head reeled with questions. How did they know of this? How? He was sure nobody could have broken Kibby's privacy wards, at least not without her noticing. So the only possible explanation was that Potter had been not careful enough and talked about it while being overheard.

 _Figures_   
, he thought angrily. Leave it at the reckless Gryffindor to be unable to ensure that secrets stayed exactly that – secrets.

But actually, he realised, this could be good for them. If people didn't think it was Draco's fault but Potter's, his son probably wouldn't have much trouble when attending Hogwarts or just appearing in public. It still wouldn’t be easy, but at least a great deal less hard.

At Snape's motioning, Draco reached for the third and last paper, hoping it wouldn't say anything about his being a girl, even if only for twelve hours.

It didn't. It was about the Manor Searchings and surprisingly critical towards the Ministry, accusing them of harassing a barely 18-years-old, orphaned, traumatised, heartbroken, pregnant young man. Draco disliked this weak picture of him but was too relieved to spend much thought on it.

Draco looked up, and Snape raised one eyebrow. "You seem relieved."

"They could have said far worse," Draco nodded and put the papers back on the table.

"It's true then."

"What is?"

"Potter is the father." It didn't sound accusing.

"You could say it like that. He took part in the procreation," Draco replied coolly.

For a while it was silent, both sorting out the previously heard, until Snape spoke again.

"I didn't expect that."

Draco smiled sardonically. "Me neither, that's for sure."

Snape wrinkled his nose. "He contacted me, you know."

"Who?"

"Potter."

"Why?" Draco tensed.

"Wanted to know where you were. Demanded I tell him, claiming he deserved to know."

Draco snarled. "Deserve? He doesn't deserve anything, arrogant bastard that he is!"

"That's what I told him," Snape agreed with an oily grin. Draco smirked back, knowing exactly how much the potions master enjoyed goading Potter.

"I'd appreciate if you finally told me completely what's going on, without neglecting to mention important details," Snape continued.

Draco leant back and sighed. Picking up his previously abandoned bowl again, he took a few absent spoonfuls, ignoring Snape's disgusted expression.

"Basically, Potter stole my personal journal, and I tricked him into thinking I was someone else so he would let me into his dorm. I got my journal back, and pregnant along the way, though I didn't realise until later."

Snape wrinkled his nose again. "That certainly lacks finesse. I expected better from you."

Draco shrugged. "I was growing desperate and thought I had no other possibilities. Anyway, what's done is done, there is no use crying over spilt milk."

"And now you're carrying Potter's brat." Snape snorted.

Draco looked up coolly. "I ask you to kindly refrain from talking about my son like that. He may share Potter's ancestors, but that is everything they will ever have in common." And as usual, he refused to acknowledge the small pang of pain he felt because of that. There may have been a tiny little bit of hope inside of him that had dreamed he and Potter would actually resolve their differences and become a real family, but he hadn't even been aware of it until it had died with Potter's violent reaction. Up until now, his self-respect had forbidden him from contemplating why he had hoped, and he intended to keep it like that.

"Very well," Snape nodded, conceding. "So what are your plans now?"

Draco shrugged and went back to the remains of his ranch-dressing-snack. "Survive pregnancy. For my son to survive pregnancy."

Snape bowed his hand in thought. Then he stood up abruptly, saying "I'll be on my way then. Here is the potion you asked for. Tell me when you need more, or anything else. Dumbledore sends his greetings."

Absently taking the vial, Draco rose, confused. "You're leaving already? I thought you'd stay the week-end! What did you come her for then?"

Snape sent him a look but didn't reply. Draco followed him downstairs, still confused, where Snape unexpectedly turned and hugged him.

Draco's breath stopped, and, hesitatingly, he returned the hug. As quickly as he had begun, Snape ended it again, opened the door, muttered "Oh joy, from one rain into the other" and then he was gone.

Draco stood in the doorway, looking out into the rain, chest tight.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: Paint the Sky with Stars

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by the same-titled song by Enya.

_16 Weeks_

"You look like you're in a good mood," Clara commented when Draco came down the stairs.

The blond grinned. "I am! I haven't been sick today; in fact, I feel great!" He plopped down into his seat next to Raleigh, who was busy with her cornflakes, and put crunchy bacon into his cup. Then he added a few spoonfuls of honey, crushed everything into a nice mix and hummed at the lovely taste. It really was rather nice, almost as nice as ranch dressing. He loved his spontaneous ideas.

"No ranch dressing?", Enam asked with one raised eyebrow.

Draco pursed his lips and looked speculatively at the bowl of ranch dressing that Cookie by now added to every meal, because sooner or later he'd request it anyway. His gaze fell on the pickles and bananas, and with a happy sigh, he cut a few and added them to the ranch dressing. Enam snorted good-naturedly and Draco only shrugged in his direction. What was he to do, he really wanted it. Once he had almost cried because Cookie had taken too long with the dressing. She had been so horrified she had cried with him when she had finally brought it, and she hadn't even taken that long. Draco had just really, really wanted it.

And while he was at it… snapping his fingers, Draco called for Cookie and asked for the chocolate sauce. She brought it without questioning, and he dipped some more pickles in it. He had no idea why he liked pickles so much, he hadn't ever cared much for them, but Enam had said it was normal. Apparently, quite a lot totally disgusting things were normal for pregnant people; that one evening when Draco had suddenly really, really wanted to lick that tasty piece of coal… and it had tasted nice, though totally foreign, and he was in fact happy that he had only wanted to lick once. But Enam had encouraged him, and he had wanted it even more than ranch dressing… and it wasn't like he had chewed it or anything. Besides, hadn't Enam mentioned he'd want to lick it at their first meeting? So it really was normal.

"You're almost sixteen weeks along now, so the morning sickness probably won't come back," Enam explained after a few minutes of silent chewing.

"Really?" Draco looked up, hopeful. That had been really, really, really annoying and he had been quite sick of it, no pun intended.

Enam nodded. "The lethargy probably won't come back either now, until the end of your pregnancy, when you'll have trouble sleeping. This is a really good time now; both emotionally and physically. You can feel and see you're pregnant, but it's not restraining you too much yet. It's the best time for travelling."

Draco was amused. "Well, I have done that already, haven't I?"

"Well." Enam shrugged. "We could maybe go see Auckland, or go a little trekking. Movement will enhance his sense of balance."

"Have you thought of a name yet?", Cara interjected, and Draco pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I'm not sure yet…"

"Come on, with the way you were pouring over that book yesterday, surely you must have found a few candidates!" They had owl-ordered him a book for baby names, and when Draco had disliked the heavy self-importance most traditional wizard-names seemed to carry (just look at his grandfather Abraxas!) Enam had gone and bought him a different, more modern book. Draco suspected it was muggle, but he didn't care much.

"Hm. I told you already that I want something easy, light, but not stupid, right?"

They nodded.

"Well. I rather like Leigh, but it lacks a little fantasy, because of Raleigh here." The girl looked up when her name was called and sleepily leant into Draco's side, who put an arm around her. "I also like Elian, and Anakin, but I'm really not sure. I'm not through with the book yet, so…"

"Just go by feeling," Cara advised. "My sister went through book after book and made a list of suitable names for my niece, and eventually she simply closed her eyes and pointed her wand at one, because she just couldn't decide. I know it's a rather important question, but really, there is no philosophy to it. It's not like you'll suddenly stumble over a name and think 'That's it!'; it's a spontaneous decision."

"Ani," Raleigh declared from where she lay cuddled into his side, patting his stomach.

Draco looked down at her. "What?"

She rubbed her nose into the side of his stomach, then looked up at him with her wide, green eyes. "Anikin."

"Anakin?" Draco repeated, and she nodded. "Uhm, well, okay, Anakin it is…"

Enam started to laugh. "Well, if _that_ wasn't spontaneous, then I don't know what is."

"I like it," Cara grinned. "And the second name? Draco?"

"Anakin Draco Malfoy? Sounds rather awkward, doesn't it?" Draco tilted his head. Anakin Harry Malfoy didn't sound nice either, and he didn't even consider his father's name. His grandfather's name was horrible too… Potter's father's name had been James, hadn't it? For a second he wanted to scowl because he knew Potter's father's name, but everyone knew the story of James and Lily Potter. "Anakin James Malfoy?"

Cara tried it. "Anakin James… has a nice ring to it."

"Or Anakin Tarleton," Draco contemplated, thinking of his once pregnant ancestor with the helpful diary and his son. "Or Anakin Wilmett."

"Uhm." Cara licked her lips, sounding a little awkward. "What was that about ancient wizard names?"

Draco poked his tongue at her. "Fine, Anakin James. Happy?" It was tradition to give sons the second name of one of the ancestors of the father, anyway, and while Draco didn't care much for Potter or his feelings (or his name), he also failed to see why he should hide half of his son's heritage, since everybody knew of it now anyway. It didn't matter whether they were sure or not.

"It's your decision, really, but I think Anakin James is nice."

"Ani," Raleigh insisted, still cuddled against his side.

"Anakin James it is, then," Draco nodded and went back to his pickles with chocolate sauce.

Later that day, when they came back from the beach after enjoying the warming sun, there was an owl waiting for him. Draco was glad to be hearing from Snape; since his confusing visit two weeks ago, he hadn't heard from the man, and he had sent his last letter two weeks before that.

It was a normal letter; Snape whined about horrible students and noisy Gryffindors, although he'd never admit he was whining. He'd probably call it complaining or something. He neither mentioned Draco's pregnancy, Potter, or the cause of his visit; Draco still hadn't figured it out and was really confused by now. It was very strange to come all the way to New Zealand, stay barely twenty minutes and leave again.

Shrugging and sitting down to reply, Draco almost put the envelope away until he noticed there was another parchment in it. Pulling it out, he found it was from Dumbledore, who chatted a little about Hogwarts, school life, teacher gossip, inquired after his health, wished him well for his pregnancy and invited him and anyone he wanted to "bring along" to the Christmas Banquet at Hogwarts.

Stunned, Draco let the letter drop.

Go to Hogwarts? Back to England?

His instinctive reaction towards that thought was refusal. But immediately afterwards stubbornness flared up; he hadn't been cowed when the papers had portrayed him as a potential Death Eater who had wriggled his way out of the Ministry's grip, and he wasn't going to be cowed now only because people knew he was pregnant.

That was everything they knew anyway; everything else was just speculation and, besides, fairly stupid; typical Daily Prophet standard. Few people knew enough to tell apart truth from fiction.

But did he want to go to Hogwarts? It would be certainly nice to see the castle again, and, to be honest, the thought of a not-white, summery-warm Christmas had crept him out a little. He had honestly missed Hogwarts with her long, cool corridors and the professors who were nice company. Hell, he had even missed the library with its smell and feel of well-used, old books.

On the other hand, he would like to spend Christmas with the Gabriels. Thing was, he wasn't too sure if they'd like that, what they had planned; maybe they intended to go home and celebrate with their own families? Also, there was a possibility he came across Potter. A very small one, admittedly, but still a possibility. But, he told himself, Potter was the one who had acted like an arrogant prick. There wasn't really much he could do to Draco in the castle, and he was absolutely sure not even Dumbledore would tolerate his behaviour, especially not if it was a pregnant Draco who was at the receiving end.

And it wasn't very likely that Potter showed up anyway. He'd no doubt be cropped up with the Weasleys and most likely making doe-eyes at their youngest one.

With a firm nod, Draco called for Cookie to draw him a bath and went down to talk to Cara and Enam and fetch himself a snack. Probably chocolate ice cream with whipped cream and sugar granules, and maybe some olives or pickles. Or both. And pineapple with ranch dressing, hmm…

Cara was already in the kitchen, making herself a sandwich when Draco came in. Playfully she pulled it out of his reach, saying "Oh no, you won't get this one, not without a fight!"

"As if I wanted your plebeian sandwich," Draco sneered back. "I have far more sophisticated tastes!"

Cara broke into laughter when he pulled out the ranch dressing, chocolate ice cream, olives, cheddar, pineapples, pickles, sugar granules and cream. Casually, he glanced at Cara and asked, "What do you have planned for Christmas?"

"Uhm, no idea, we haven't talked about it yet. Why?" She blinked.

"Uhm," Draco said. Letting Cookie do the work, he sat down opposite Cara and bit his lower lip. "Dumbledore invited me to Hogwarts, and he said I could bring anyone I want, and I thought maybe you'd like to come. If you have nothing better to do, that is if you don't want to celebrate with your families or something."

Cara paused in mid-bite, set her sandwich down and looked at him. "Draco, you are aware that you are part of the family, are you? We visit my sister's family – or they visit us – on Christmas Day, and if we were going back to England for Christmas, you'd be invited as well, you know that, right?"

"Er," Draco said. Then he looked down and blinked. "Uh, alright. I mean, great."

Slowly, Cara grinned, and suddenly she reached over the table to ruffle his hair. "You are way too young to carry so many worries, Draco. Lighten up, talk to people. It helps."

"Okay." Draco swallowed and glanced at the two bowls of delicious snacks waiting for him. "I'll be taking a bath then. A bath. Right."

"Let's talk with Enam about going to Hogwarts later, but I definitely like the idea. I'd like to see Hogwarts, and only a white Christmas is a real Christmas. Have a nice bath!" Cara smirked.

Draco nodded, averting her eyes and blushing heavily, and muttered "Yeah okay, let's." Then he got up, took the bowls – he did not levitate them, because he had made a point out of leaving his wand by his nightstand so he would use as little magic as possible for his son's sake – and went to his bathroom, feeling flustered.

So he was part of the family, was he?

That was a very, very nice feeling, he decided, smiling shyly.


	15. Chapter Fourteen: All Kinds of Time

_19 Weeks_

Draco was floating.

Well, of course he wasn't floating for real; he was just in that state of mind one had early in the morning, still lying in bed, not completely awake, but not asleep either. His bed was warm and soft and snugly, he had slept well and had nice dreams (he didn't know of what, just that they had been peaceful and calm), and there was no reason to get up yet. Well, okay, he had to use the toilet, but so far he had successfully managed to ignore that urge.

He hadn't had such calm mornings for _months_ ; every morning, he had had to run to the toilet to throw up, and then he had crawled back into bed and pitied himself and hated his revolting stomach. So these past few weeks with barely any sickness had been pure heaven.

Enam had been right when saying that the following weeks would be the best. He felt _great_. He had come to terms with the fact that he was pregnant and that his life would change forever, that Potter was the father and an asshole and that everybody and their brother knew both those facts. He also had pre-planned as much as possible, but without confining himself; he had found a name, he had ensured he would have any potions he may need, and he had a family he would spend Christmas with, at Hogwarts.

The family-bit still made him smile.

He hadn't had a family in so long, and even when his parents had still been alive he had had a family only by technical terms.

But no; that wasn't fair. He had loved his parents, and his parents had loved him, and they had tried to make each other happy and been happy themselves when they had achieved that, but that certain warmth he had seen in other families had been lacking somehow. For example he would never have even dreamt of going to breakfast in his nightgown, but with the Gabriels it was almost tradition, nothing unusual.

Hugs were also fairly normal. His own parents hadn't hugged him just like that; there had to have been a reason. A short hug when he left for or came back from Hogwarts, a kiss on the cheek when he got presents for his birthday or Christmas. But Cara seemed to really like to hug him, and he still found that rather strange – not the fact that she wanted to hug him, but that she passed him by in the hall and suddenly hugged him, just like that. And then she continued on her way as if nothing had happened. Enam wasn't a very huggy person, but he tended to pat Draco or ruffle his hair, and Raleigh – Raleigh wasn't even conscious of what she was doing. She climbed into his lap when she wanted to, and when she didn't want to anymore, she climbed down again. It wasn't something she really paid attention to – well, as long as she got her way, that is. If someone for some reason wouldn't pay attention to her, she could get really annoying.

That was another thing that was new to him. At first, he had been ashamed when he had been annoyed by her – she was only a child, after all. But he had learned – from the book Cara had given him – that it was normal to be annoyed with children, that children tended to get on everyone's nerves some time sooner rather than later. It was just important not to let that annoyance show and not to treat the child unfair. She was, after all, only a child. She wasn't rational, and she wasn't able to comprehend how her actions were affecting people – she wasn't even aware of her actions as actions. She felt or wanted, and she acted. There wasn't a thought or any hesitation, the two were irrevocably intertwined.

And Draco had learned that, while he quickly became impatient, he was able to reign his temper, keep his composure and not let his annoyance lead his actions.

He had been really proud when Cara had pointed that out to him. He was bound to snap at Raleigh – or his son, later – sometimes, but the book said that if one really was about to lose their temper, they were supposed to go away and take a few, deep breaths. Then he should come back and talk calmly to his child, and if he had acted unfair, he was supposed to talk to them about it, tell them why and apologise. Children, the book said, were still persons, and he as a parent – or some kind of uncle, for Raleigh – had a lot more power over them then he could imagine. A careless sentence or word he didn't even really realise he had said could change everything for them, and because of that he should always pay attention to what he was doing.

Of course he wasn't stupid. He knew it was going to be hard sometimes, but he wasn't alone. He had help, and there were many things he didn't have to care for – housework, work and money in general the two most important among them.

Sighing happily, Draco cuddled deeper into his pillows and absently laid a hand on his stomach.

It wasn't a real pregnant stomach yet – well, it was, but it didn't really look like it yet. So far he only looked, apart from the fact that it wasn't wobbly, like he'd had a few meals too many. Or rather, his stomach had, because his arms and legs were still normal. But when Cara had said that people would know he was pregnant and not fat not only because of the rest of his body, but also because he had a certain glow, a certain feeling carrying in his aura… well, it was incredibly sappy, but he had been glowing even more afterwards.

What he had been apprehensive of as soon as he had heard of them through a book were stretch marks. It could look downright violent and was really not very beautiful; certainly not something he wanted to have himself. And he had learned that especially young people tended to get them, and charming them away wasn't easy and never really worked completely, and anyway only a method for after giving birth. So he had whined to Enam, who had told him of a lotion with certain herbs that would work to prevent them by making his skin more elastic and increasing the blood flow the way Cara's massages did – those would, by the way, help against stretch marks too, Enam had said.

And so Draco had asked Snape to make the lotion, and a few days later he had received his first batch. He may have been a little too enthusiastic with it, though, and was already nearing his end. A few days ago he had sent Snape a request for some more and expected it to arrive any day now – unless Snape had only made a little bit that first time, then it'd take a few days more.

By the way, now that he was thinking of it… worming his hand out of the mountain of pillows and his blanket he was lying underneath, Draco blindly grabbed for his wand. When he had finally located it, he accioed his batch of lotion. Accio was a rather basic charm that required little magical energy (depending, of course, on how far away the object was), so he felt no apprehension to using it. And it wasn't like he was using it all the time, and especially not over a great distance.

When the lotion landed in his hand, he quickly pulled his arm back underneath the warmth of his nest. Then he kept the batch a while close to his skin without touching it with any other body part but his hands so the cool glass would warm a little. He almost fell asleep again, but only almost.

After he had deemed the glass warm enough, he wriggled around a little to pull his nightgown up and straightened his position so he could better reach his stomach, dabbed his fingers into the cream and waited again until it was warm enough. Then he carefully began to rub it into his skin with the massaging motions Cara had shown him.

Immediately, he felt the herbs go to work; his skin warmed, and the herbal scent filled the small universe he had created beneath the blanket.

And then he felt…

Draco stopped breathing and froze. Had that really…?

There was it again, a light fluttering in his stomach, as delicate and subtle as the wings of a butterfly…

Oh Merlin, it was really there, he hadn't imagined it- again.

Suddenly Draco had to blink, because his eyes were moist and his vision watered more and more, and he took a sharp breath.

It didn't happen again, but he was sure he hadn't imagined it, that it had really happened.

He had felt Anakin move. His son.

Half an hour later, after Draco had stopped crying – though it hadn't been real crying; tears of happiness, as sappy as that sounded, didn't count as crying in his opinion – and finished applying the lotion, feeling the tiny flutter again and finally realising it came because of the lotion, that Ani somehow felt and reacted to it… well, Draco refused to call it _bouncing_ ; he walked down the stairs happily, but at a normal, serious pace. Yes. He also didn't chirp "Good morning!" as if it was his birthday, Christmas Eve and New Years at the same time; he said it with a calm and serene, but good-mooded expression.

Enam returned his greetings with a smile, as did his wife. Cara had just opened her mouth to say or ask something – though he had no idea what, he was as laid-back as usual – when Raleigh smiled brightly at Draco, chirped "Good morning Dray!" before turning to his stomach, saying in the same chirpy tone "Good morning Ani!"

Draco blinked and returned her smile. "Good morning Ray."

"Is everything alright?" Cara asked, confused. Raleigh had never greeted his son before.

Draco smiled and sat down in his chair. "I may have felt a little movement earlier."

"Really?!" Cara exclaimed, jumped up and hugged him. "Oh, really? That's so awesome!"

"Yes, really." Not feeling so awkward anymore, Draco hugged her back. When she finally released him, her eyes were a little moist, but his weren't. Not really. Only a tiny little bit, and that didn't really count. She sniffed and sat down again, and Enam, sitting across from Draco, smiled and reached to ruffle his hair. He did that fairly often; so often, in fact, that Draco had stopped trying to straighten his hair afterwards. It would only get unruly again pretty soon anyway.

"That's really great, Draco." Enam smiled. "I think that's the most important point in pregnancy, apart from the birth. From now on you can always feel him moving."

Draco found he really liked the prospect of that.

"How big is he now? When can others feel it?", Cara asked, rubbing at her eyes with her nightgown and sending a shy smile at them.

Draco pulled his chair back a little so Enam could easier reach him with his magic, Enam cast the charm that would tell him, and Draco felt a tiny flutter again and blushed.

Enam smiled. "He is 17 centimetres long and weights 278 grams. That's perfect."

"Wow, 17 centimetres… that is a lot, isn't it? I mean, that's almost twenty!" Cara smiled excitedly.

"He'll be more than twice, maybe even three times as long when he is born." Enam explained.

"Still, Draco's stomach isn't really big, and still Anakin is so long already! I think it's amazing."

Enam smiled. "It is."

Draco returned the smile. It was.


	16. Chapter Fifteen: Time to Breathe

_22 Weeks_

Slowly, Draco waded through the cool, clear water. The waves were playing around his feet, whirling up the white sand.

 _Enam has been right, as usual_ , he thought, shading his eyes with one hand to look out for Enam, who was sitting a few steps farther down the beach, watching over Raleigh who played in the sun. Draco had complained that his legs were tired and swollen when Enam had told him to come with them to the beach, and the healer had said that a small walk in the cool water would help him greatly.

The sun was shining down on them with bright warmth; Draco was wearing light shades and a hat to protect himself, and, of course, a strong suntan lotion. He was prone to sunburn; he had given up on tanning long ago, though as a kid he had always tried to get at least a small tan. The only thing he had gotten was hair so light it was almost white and red skin, making him look really ridiculous.

Placing a hand on his stomach, he looked around, taking in the soft rushing of the waves, the warm, not too hot sun, the forest, the South Island at the horizon.

"I really can picture raising you here," he told Anakin. He had read in the books that talking to unborn children was important to get them used to one's voice; also, they wouldn't feel alone. He had then asked Enam when Anakin would be able to hear (17 th week), and from then on he had started to sometimes talk to him. At first he had only talked a little in bed, being a little embarrassed, but ever since he had felt his son's first movements, he had started to really talk to him on a daily basis, as if he were able to answer. "It's a very nice day, warm and bright, and I love the ocean. I want you to love the ocean too. But it would be a little secluded; here, far away from any civilisation. So maybe we'll just spend our summers here, or maybe we'll move to the wizarding community of New Zealand. In Auckland they have a street that is similar to Diagon Alley, I heard."

He hadn't been there yet, but the Gabriel's had, and they had brought him presents and told him of it. He'd like to see it one day; it appeared to be very unusual and interesting, full with traditional    
_  
Māori Magic and Wizards. Draco knew barely anything about either, and so he'd like to find out some day.   
_

Wading a little deeper until the water was lapping at his knees, Draco looked back at where Raleigh was shrieking in delight. She was playing with the water; she'd follow the waves until her toes touched the cool water, and when the waves would come back she would run away from them, laughing happily.

It really was amazing how simple things could make her happy, Draco thought.

"I'd also really like for you to know Raleigh when you grow up. She's a very sweet girl; you know her already, she talks to you sometimes. She seems to have a certain connection to you, I don't know what it is, but she knew when you had moved for the first time – or rather, when I felt it for the first time. She was also the one who picked your name; I hope you'll like it. I rather like my own name, though I don't think I have much in common with a dragon…"

Turning back to stare at the horizon, Draco sighed.

"I'm sorry you won't know your father, but I hope you'll still be happy. I doubt I can ever fill that void, but I'll do my best, and Cara and Enam will help me, I think. We're family, they say. They're very nice, even though they must have read all those stories about me. I don't understand why they can ignore them and other people can't, but… well. They actually are here for free; they're not earning any money here, because they absolutely refused me paying them. Cara is on parental leave anyway, but Enam isn't, and they even tried to make    
_me_   
accept payment for board and lodging. I of course didn't take any; they are doing me a huge favour, and I'd be very ungrateful to allow them to pay me, and besides, I certainly don't need it. So we agreed they'd stay for free, and Enam would treat me for free. He's pretty good, I think, knows all that stuff without even having to check in a book or something, though I suppose he would; he's been doing this for years. He trained for it, after all.

"That's why I'm very glad he's here; I feel a lot safer that way. If something happened, he'd be there in a second, and that makes a huge difference, I think. I don't want anything to happen to you."

Draco sighed and absently ran his hand over his stomach.

He was really visibly pregnant now; he doubted anyone could mistake his belly for fat. Also, he felt Anakin moving more and more; he couldn't tell if he was a lively child or not, but he knew his son liked to move every now and then, and the slight flutters had turned to light tickles. Or at least he liked to think so; could be he was just more used to it now and knew what to listen for. He had learned that Ani moved especially when he was applying the lotion, or when he was taking a bath and touching his stomach and talking to him.

Draco hadn't cried since he had felt his son move for the first time. Frankly, he didn't feel like crying, and he knew he was going to make it. There was, of course, still the possibility of an accident happening – there always was – but he knew with every passing day the chances that, if really something happened, Ani would survive increased.

"Dray!", Raleigh called. Draco turned to look at her, shading his eyes, and saw that she was waving him over. Waving back, Draco made his way over to them.

Raleigh smiled enthusiastically up at him. "Cake?"

"What, cake? Do I want some? Do you want some? Did you find a cake in the sand?"

She giggled. "No. Mummy made cake. Let's eat!"

Draco pursed his lips. "I don't know, do I want cake?" He was only teasing her, of course. Cake, especially chocolate cake, the one Cara was baking, sounded wonderful. With clotted cream and maybe some mustard… delicious.

Raleigh stared at him with wide eyes, and he laughed and ruffled her hair. "Of course I want cake!"

The little girl smiled and took his hand. Together, they walked over to her father who had pretended not to watch them, and Raleigh ordered him in a firm tone she must have picked up from Cara he get up and come eat cake with them.

Moaning and groaning dramatically, muttering about his age and "won't try to keep up with the youngsters anymore", Enam rose, and together they made their way back to the cottage, where Cara and Cookie had already set the table on the patio.


	17. Chapter Sixteen: A Lack of Colour

_26 weeks, two days: 6 months_

"I can't!"

"Why not, Draco?" Cara spoke soothingly, but not patronising. Any other time he would have been thankful for that, but right now he was too busy trying to swallow the tears and not hyperventilate.

"I- He'll be there, I just know it, and I can't-" Despite all his efforts, Draco felt his eyes watering, and he sniffled pathetically.

"But you can't know if he will be there. Maybe he won't even know that _you_ are there; do you think anyone who knew you'd come would go and tell him?"

"I don't know!" Draco wailed and hid his face in the pillow he was hugging. He would have loved to curl into a tight ball now and hide in his knees, but that was physically impossible right now.

Cara didn't say anything, but pulled him to her to hug him. Draco hugged the pillow tighter, almost clutching it, and buried his face deeper into the soft, yielding material. He couldn't… he wouldn't go to Hogwarts. He just was unable to; he knew that with his luck, somehow Potter would show up there, especially because it was just Potter. People told him things without a second thought simply because he was who he was, and if he wanted to know where Draco was, he would find out sooner rather than later. The wizards working at the Department for Intercontinental Travels were bound by a Swear of Silence, but it was only that; in certain cases, they could be freed from that swear, and Draco had no doubt that Potter – the _great_ Harry Potter, after all – would just need to smile a bit and give them his pitiful story of deserving to know where his child was, and he would have them wrapped around his little finger. It was always like that, just like it had always been that Draco needed to work harder to get the same recognition others did, because he was a Malfoy. And ever since the war, he hadn't gotten any recognition at all.

Not that he wanted any anymore. He just wanted to be left in peace, without having to be afraid his son was going to have a life not as wonderful as he should and deserved to have because of his name or his father, two things he just couldn't help about having.

"You looked forward to this Christmas so much, Draco. Do you really want to let him ruin it for you without even doing anything?"

Draco sniffled. No, he didn't want that. He didn't want Potter to control him, control his life in any way, and especially not without even doing anything.

"And I just wondered, what would be so bad about him showing up?"

Draco paused and looked up, incredulous, forgetting all about how his face was all blotchy and red. "He'd- he'd-" He paused and furrowed his brows. He couldn't seem to think of anything Potter did, but he knew Potter would do something, didn't he?

"He would what? Hex you? I doubt that very, very much. Someone who hexes wizards who are pregnant with that someone's own child wouldn't stop a Dark Lord. And besides, even if he tried; you could take Cookie with you, I don't think anyone would mind, and if he – and that's a very, very big, monumental if – did anything, she could protect you. What else could he do? Say something mean? Then you'll say something mean back, or you just leave. He is powerless, Draco. He gave up the rights to his son when he said that back then when you told him, you told us about that yourself, and there really isn't anything he can do. Especially not at Hogwarts; as I understand it, Dumbledore won't allow anything to happen to you."

Slowly, Draco nodded, thinking about what Cara had just said. She was right; all of it was right. And hadn't Dumbledore been disappointed in Potter and his little friends for not trying to be at least civil to him?

It wasn't like in the past, when he had been the one who helplessly ran against a brick wall. Now it was Potter who was in that position, especially since Draco had the support of quite a few teachers – or at least he hoped he had. His being pregnant wouldn't make them change their opinion and think bad of him, would it?

He sniffed and nodded again. "You are right, of course. Sorry."

She smiled encouragingly and pulled a handkerchief out of her pocket to dab at his wet cheeks. Nobody had done that for him since he had been four years old. "There is nothing to be sorry for. Besides," she winked, "if he shows up, you can hide behind Enam. He'll be your knight in a shining armour, all gentlemanly and protective and all that."

Draco smiled at the mental image of Enam standing arms crossed, Draco cowed behind him, and staring challengingly at Potter, who was glaring fiercely. He would like to see that confrontation; Enam was a good natured, level headed person, but he had a downright vicious tongue. He had found that out when Draco had told them the whole story of him and Potter, in even greater detail than back then with the law witch, Aimee Ryan. He hadn't actually talked about his feelings, at least not more than was necessary, but they had kind of figured it out, he guessed. They always did.

"Coast clear again?"

Draco nodded faintly, and Cara stood up and leant him a hand to help him get up, something that wasn't an easy task anymore for Draco.

"Here, blow your nose, and then let's get inside again." She gave him the handkerchief and he did as he was told. They were sitting on the stairs that led to the first floor; Draco couldn't quite recall how they had gotten there, but it wasn't that important anyway. Following Cara back inside the living room where they spent most of their time, especially the evenings when Raleigh had gone to bed, they found Enam pouring over a book. When he noticed them, he looked up, smiled and said kindly, "Everything alright?"

Still sniffling a little, Draco nodded again. "Sorry."

"Don't be. Your hormones are going crazy, you are bound to being a little more emotional than usual. It will happen again."

Still embarrassed, but feeling a little better, Draco nodded. Then he sighed. "I need chocolate."

Enam chuckled, and Draco called for Cookie to bring him that Italian chocolate Dumbledore had sent him the week before.

"Is Anakin awake?", Cara asked when they had sat down. She was the only one of them so far who hadn't felt him move; Raleigh seemed to have a sixth sense to knowing when Ani was awake and when not and had taken a habit of talking to him when he was. It reminded Cara a lot of when her niece had had her invisible friend, only Anakin wasn't invisible, not really. It was really rather cute and fascinating, especially when she would look at her mother or father with condescending eyes, saying "He's asleep, daddy! Shh." if one of them dared to talk to Ani when he wasn't awake. She knew that almost as instinctively as Draco did.

He nodded ruefully. "I think I woke him up."

"Can I?" She edged closer to him and, barely feeling self-conscious anymore, Draco opened his robe. It wasn't just a wide robe, like some people wore during pregnancy, but one especially designed for pregnant wizards. It allowed him to unclothe his stomach without having to undress completely. He had bought it before he had even thought of leaving England, before the first raid of the Manor. A sister of Madam Malkin's owned a shop for "very special situations"; meaning baby clothes and pregnancy wear. He had visited it only once, but she was discreet and hadn't been unfriendly.

Sometimes he was dryly amazed by how much his expectations of other people's behaviour had lowered. In the past, before the war, he would have demanded respect, thinking he deserved it; now that he actually did, he didn't even expect it anymore; he simply didn't care. It was insignificant.

Much more important was this.

Carefully, Cara laid one hand right onto the middle of his stomach; nothing happened.

Sighing, Draco placed his own hands more to the sides, saying "Come on, play with us." It was a game Enam had told him of; he would put his hands on his stomach, and Anakin would kick – or rather, nudge – them, if the light was bright enough that is. Draco liked to imagine Ani floating inside his warm, protective stomach, seeing the dark shades of hands outside of it and pushing against them. It was really amazing to interact like that with his unborn son.

Ah. He felt a soft, almost tentative nudge and quickly pulled Cara's hand over to it. Anakin showed mercy with her and nudged her hand as well, and Cara beamed in obvious delight. "I felt it!", she exclaimed in a hushed tone, as if she were afraid to scare Anakin off.

Enam smiled, watching his wife with a just as obvious emotional expression in his eyes, and Draco hoped that one day, rather sooner than later because Cara didn't get younger, their doctor would manage to find and solve the problem they had and that prevented them from having their own children. Raleigh was a girl that'd delight in having siblings, he was sure of that, and it'd make them very happy.

Anakin seemed to fall asleep again, for he didn't give more than one or two nudges to Cara, but it was enough. For once, it wasn't Draco that got all teary-eyed, though he came rather close.

"You should go to bed soon, Draco," Enam said, eyes still fixed on his wife. "You are bound to tire more quickly, and you don't want to strain yourself. You need your energy."

Draco smirked. "Right. Goodnight then."

Enam winked at him, and Draco left the pair to go to bed.


	18. Chapter Seventeen: Back Again

_26 weeks, four days_

On Christmas, Draco was woken up by Raleigh. She didn't jump and bounce on his bed until he got up like she did with her parents; for some reason, she had always been more careful with him. Her tenderness – she would crawl up to him and stroke his face or cuddle up to him – had belied his first assumption that she was reserved and shy because she didn't know him yet; now he guessed it was because at first, he had always looked ill in the mornings, and later on, he had been visibly pregnant and Cara had told her to be careful. She just was an adorable child.

"Morning," Draco yawned at her and smiled faintly. She grinned and crawled off the bed.

"Get up, Dray!", she ordered, and Draco, knowing he was fighting a lost cause, hived himself off the bed. It took a lot more effort than he liked, and he didn't want to imagine what it would be like in his ninth month.

It was very early; they had agreed to not adapt fully to the time difference in England, but only half; sleep 'til midday, go to bed at midnight. And so they had to get up early, and even earlier yet because they still had to get to the Ministry of New Zealand. For that purpose, Draco had ordered a ministry car to the cottage that'd bring them to the Ministry of Aotea Island, a small scion of the main ministry that'd get them to the original ministry that was the only place that allowed intercontinental travelling in New Zealand.

Feeling sluggish and whiny, Draco sent Raleigh with a kiss on her forehead back to her parents and went about his morning routine. At the moment, he very much felt like cancelling everything, but he _had_ looked forward to this visit, as had Enam, Cara and Raleigh. Besides, they had already said they'd come, and Draco wouldn't like to disappoint the few people that had more or less stood with him when nobody else had.

After he had dressed more warmly than the weather in New Zealand required because there'd be real winter in England, he made his way down the stairs into the kitchen where Cookie had already made breakfast for them. Enam and Raleigh were already there and eating, but Cara was still busy. Enam looked as tired as he felt.

"Morning."

Enam tiredly returned the greeting; Raleigh chirped happily at him. Draco just knew she'd get them properly awake and then would promptly fall asleep herself.

The sight of the food, though, made Draco feel a little more energised. A bit more motivated to move, he started to lade his plate with food.

A few minutes later, Cara joined them and started to nibble at some fruits; she didn't look that happy to be awake either. Overall, they were a very subdued small group greeting the driver of the car, who was friendly, but looked a little tired himself.

After maybe fifteen minutes of travelling, they arrived at the Ministry of Aotea Island. Cookie shrank their travelling bags for them and then left, apparating to the Manor and sending Draco's order to ready the carriage and wait by the Ministry of England for them to Kibby. He was rather glad that house-elves weren't bound by the laws of humans.

At the Aotea Ministry, a wizard surprisingly told them they were allowed to travel intercontinental directly from the island; it was Christmas, after all, and would mean less work for the Ministries and less stress for them, he said.

And so it was Draco stripped down to socks and light underrobes at Aotea Island already; Raleigh besides him did the same, chattering excitedly and obviously eager to jump into the basin of goo again. Draco couldn't claim to feel the same, but it couldn't be helped. Enam and Cara took their shrunken clothes and the wizard helped Draco into the basin. He, like last time, held Raleigh up until they got their oxygen-candies; then they both dove underneath the surface of the sticky goo.

This time, it seemed to Draco, the travel seemed to take longer than the first one; he wondered if it truly was or if he just wanted to get out again and thus only felt like it was longer.

Probably the latter, he thought dryly, watching Raleigh play around very much like the first time, feeling Anakin twitch inside of him. If he hadn't known it was perfectly safe, he would have been worried; but it really was perfectly harmless, and he was grateful for that.

Cara and Enam were once again already waiting for them when they resurfaced; Cara was holding their clothes and had her wand ready to scourgify them when they got out.

Feeling a little grumpy, Draco let Enam help him out of the basin and let the charm wash over him; inside his stomach, Anakin twitched again, making Draco worry if too much magic performed on them distressed him. He'd have to ask Enam later.

The witches that welcomed them didn't reveal any expression except for a short glance at each other, but Draco still ignored them and redressed with Enam's help. After Cara had finished dressing Raleigh, they went to the registration office; without the pass they'd get there, they wouldn't be allowed to leave the department. Draco went through first and was done rather quickly; he took Raleigh and went to sit down on a bench while her parents went into the office. The gootravel had woken him up a little, but Raleigh was rapidly growing more silent, leaning into his side and finally starting to doze. Draco protectively put an arm around her and closed his eyes, not quite dozing but not totally alert either.

"We're done, sleepyheads!" Enam's voice pulled him out again and he blinked wearily. Behind him, Cara pulled out the shrunken winter cloaks they had brought and magicked them back to their original size.

"It'll be cold, and your bodies aren't used to it, so keep them closed," she told Raleigh and Draco while giving them their cloaks and helping them close all the buttons. It was uncomfortably warm and unfamiliarly heavy, but Draco knew she was right, and he'd rather not risk getting a cold that would endanger Anakin. Raleigh, though, was whiney and pulled at her cloak all the way to the exit of the ministry. When they got outside, the cold hit them and Raleigh was stunned by the dark – it was morning, wasn't it? – the snow – hadn't she been playing on the beach just yesterday? – and the cold. Luckily, Kibby was already waiting for them with the disguised carriage and, bless her, a snack.

They got comfortable in the thankfully warm carriage and drank hot chocolate and ate cookies (dipped in ranch dressing; Draco was sure Cookie had told the other house-elves of his not so new addiction), and Raleigh took a nap on Enam's lap – Draco's didn't have enough room for her anymore.

"When will we be there?", asked Cara after a while, nibbling a cookie.

Draco furrowed his brows. "About three hours, if I remember correctly. We're not taking the unmagical way, like the train."

"I always enjoyed those train rides…" Enam mused. "They were great to get back together with friends after the holidays without school in the way, and it was always better to first say goodbye to Hogwarts and then enjoy some more time with friends before having to say goodbye to them too."

"Well." Draco shrugged. "I had good rides and bad." In hindsight, the one he hadn't taken at all was his favourite, he thought. He preferred not to think about the others, of the person he had been then. It wasn't a nice or flattering memory.

"So tell me more about Hogwarts. It's a castle, and it's divided into… groups? What were they called again?"

"Houses," Draco explained after a glance at Enam, who blinked sleepily. "Four houses. Slytherin, Ravenclaw, Gryffindor and Hufflepuff. Everyone is sorted allegedly according to the students' character traits, but I believe the hat that sorts us goes more for what we wish than what we truly are." Otherwise, he would have been in Gryffindor in the end, he supposed. "I also think that only after you have been sorted, you develop or rather practice foremost those traits that stand for your house. Everyone has traits from all houses, but the single houses act according to those traits outwardly, not only formed by their own opinion, but especially by those of other peoples. If a Hufflepuff suddenly started to act studious, he would be looked at strangely." Just like Draco had been looked at strangely – and more – after he had committed an act that was Gryffindor to the core. Courageous until stupidity, desperate, head-first and anything but loyal – but loyal to the core in a different way still.

"Hm." Cara thought about that for a while. "Sounds interesting, but also… separating. So what are the houses and house traits?"

This time, Enam took over explaining. "Well, Slytherin – that's where I was in," he winked at Draco, "is according to the Sorting Hat cunning, but commonly believed as the house for pureblooded, rich students who dab in the Dark Arts. Total rubbish, of course, but people will always search a black sheep, and cunning and wit aren't always pleasant character traits.

"Then there is Gryffindor; those are the courageous, brave ones. They are also associated with the Light Side, opposing the Death Eaters, even though it's a fact that there have been almost as many former Gryffindors in the Dark Lord's ranks as other houses, and Peter Pettigrew, who gave the information that killed the Potters, was from Gryffindor.

"The third house is Ravenclaw; they are supposedly intelligent and studious and put school first. And in Ravenclaw are statistically speaking slightly more good students than in the other houses, but otherwise, they're at heart exactly like all other students.

"And, last but not least, Hufflepuff. Nobody pays much attention to them, though I think that's a mistake. Their traits are loyalty and patience, but really, as I said, all houses have traits from all houses. It's simply a way of categorising students, nothing more."

"That sounds like you think that system is a bad one."

"Not necessarily a bad one, but I think people should stop putting labels on each other simply because they have a badger on their crest rather than a lion or a snake or an eagle. And I especially dislike the fact that they call Slytherin narrow-minded and prejudiced when they're exactly the same when claiming Slytherins have those characteristics even though they have never bothered getting to know them for real. With such behaviour, they press us into a form, and we have no other choice but to act like that if we want to be taken seriously. It's ridiculous and archaic."

Draco nodded to that speech of Enam's. He couldn't have put it better. "They're trying so hard to make us the bad ones that they don't realise they are just as bad – and just as good. And when they come upon an anomaly, they don't start to doubt their decisions; they rather cling all the more to their beliefs."

Cara pursed her lips. "Then I'm not sure I want Raleigh to go to that school."

"Oh dear." Enam laughed. "It's not as bad as it sounds. Really, the house system isn't a bad one; it produces a sense of unity and togetherness, and you always have a place you can feel safe and at home at." _Or not_ , thought Draco, but didn't say anything. "And the castle is beautiful, you'll love it."

"Hmph. I guess I'll just have to look at it first before I make a decision." Cara said.

"That's a good idea. By the way, we'll have to make a stop soon; Draco has to take a few steps at least every hour."

Draco nodded. "I told Kibby already. She'll stop when it's time."

"Good. Do you have books anywhere here?"

"But of course." Draco pulled his wand out and tapped three times at the wall behind him; it opened and revealed two lines of carefully selected books. "Take your pick." A quick glance over the spines of the books told him that Kibby had chosen mostly books written by muggles; books he had read before he left.

Cara huffed. "You really are insanely rich, aren't you, Draco?"

"You have no idea," Draco replied dryly. "No matter what I do, I couldn't turn poor. We could fit an army into the Manor and still have room for more, and we have more properties all over the world. I don't know what to do with all that stuff; if it weren't all bound together as family heritage, I'd have donated at least half of it."

Shaking her head again, Cara reached to pick a book. "To kill a Mockingbird?"

"Sad and thought provoking. Not exactly for light moods," Draco commented. It was an awesome book, but the fact that he could acknowledge this didn't mean that he had to like it. Besides, the thought of judging people by the colour of skin seemed totally abstract and stupid to him – just like judging them by their blood, he thought, ruefully shaking his head. "What do you want to read?"

"I don't know." She shrugged. "Something light, short, that won't follow me into my dreams."

"Ah. I know exactly the right book." Draco turned and searched for it. "Much Ado About Nothing. Very funny."

"Ooh, Shakespeare! I guess I can. Thanks."

Draco nodded gravely and turned to Enam. "And how can I assist you, Sir?"

"I don't know. Not something where I can guess the end after the first three lines." Cara ignored that good-natured barb at her reading preferences, and Enam grinned. Draco turned around to look at the spines of the books. He had picked one for every mood, and he had been in a muggle-books phase then, so he rarely had any wizard written books here.

"How about some Sherlock Holmes?" Enam grimaced. "Agatha Christie?" Enam shook his head again. "Hm. Angela's Ashes?" Enam titled his head. "I don't know that one. What is it?"

Draco pulled out the book and gave it to him, and after reading the jacket text, Enam shrugged. "As good as any, I suppose. I guess it's a good book, if you have it here, isn't it?"

"Yes." That still didn't mean Draco enjoyed it, but he had been in a dark mood then and liked reading books that wouldn't change that. Angela's Ashes, though, was sometimes downright funny.

Turning around again to search for a book for himself, Draco finally picked a Carona Mew book, one of the few written by a witch in the selection, and soon they were all immersed in their books.

After an hour of riding, Draco carefully put Raleigh onto the cushioned bench, covered her with her cloak and went to take a few steps in the snow together with Cara. They didn't go far; the snow was too deep for that. It was icy cold, and Draco pulled up the hood of his cloak and buried his hands in his pockets. If it weren't for Anakin, he would only have taken a few steps and gone inside again, but he knew he needed to get the circulation in his legs going again. And so he took to walking in circles around the carriage for five minutes, accompanied by a shivering Cara. Then, they gladly got into the carriage again and continued their journey. The second time he was to stretch his legs went exactly the same, apart from the fact that Raleigh was awake and they all accompanied him, and the third time they were already so close to Hogwarts that they told Kibby to go on.

And then the carriage drove through the wide open gates of Hogwarts and soon came to a smooth halt in front of the main entrance.

Draco climbed out of the carriage and stared at the castle and, for the first time in too long to bother thinking about, he felt like coming home again. He hadn't expected that; his last year hadn't exactly been enjoyable and he had been glad when it finally came to an end, but here he was; ridiculously sentimental. Behind him, Cara commented dryly that it was all dark and she couldn't see anything, and Enam took their travelling bags from Kibby. Raleigh trudged through the snow with growing delight. Soft snowflakes were tripling down his cheeks and getting caught in his hair and lashes, and Draco smiled.

That smile didn't wane when Dumbledore came out to greet them, followed by Snape and McGonagall, who all greeted him like an old friend and tutted when he called them "professor". It really was like getting home, and a lot more than any year before, even back then when he had been too young to know anything of reality.

After everyone got introduced with each other, they were all ushered inside and lead to their rooms. There they were told to make themselves at home, and afterwards to come to the staff room, whenever they felt like it, for some chatting before dinner. Cara's and Enam's room was actually a small suite with a living room, a bathroom and two bedrooms; one for Raleigh and one for them. Draco's room was a normal teacher's room with a small living room, a bedroom and a bathroom. But Dumbledore had told him with a wink that they were actually rather close to the prefect's bathroom and Draco was welcome to use it whenever he felt like it. He said that no prefects had stayed for the holidays anyway, and the password was "tiger lily".

Draco intended to make use of that bathtub that more resembled a pool very soon.


	19. Chapter Eighteen: Home, Sweet Home

_26 weeks, four days_

Half an hour after they had arrived, Draco found himself walking towards the staff room with Raleigh bouncing along next to him. She was totally excited; first the goo, then the snow, and now a real castle. It was going to be horror to put her to bed later, Draco was unreasonably grateful he wouldn't be there.

Arriving, he poked his head into the room; he had never been there before. But he was immediately noticed and greeted animatedly; it seemed almost every teacher was present and a few had even brought their families. After another round of greeting, introducing Raleigh, who was shyly holding on to his leg, and explaining why Enam and Cara would come later – Enam had had a small accident while resizing their travelling back and Cara, after realising that he had ruined all their clothes, had almost had a breakdown – Draco was offered a seat on the soft sofa. At first he had tried to refuse, but Madam Pomfrey hadn't let him. "No, no, Mr. Malfoy, really. I insist. I meant to go get a cup of tea anyway. Can I bring you anything?"

So he was now sitting on the sofa with Dumbledore and Raleigh. Raleigh, who at first had sat close to Draco and held on to his robes, was staring at Dumbledore – or rather, his white beard – and after she had stared for a while, Dumbledore had allowed her to touch it. Now she was standing on the sofa – of course, without shoes – holding onto Draco's shoulder and having an earnest conversation about candy with Dumbledore.

"You are looking well," Minerva told Draco warmly and sat down in the armchair by the sofa.

"I am well. Thank you." Draco smiled.

She nodded. "I am aware your last year here hasn't been too pleasant, and I had hoped you'd find happiness after you had left. It's good to see that you did."

Draco didn't really know what to say to that, but it seemed like she didn't expect an answer anyway. Thankfully, Poppy came back before the silence could become too awkward, a cup of tea for herself and a hot chocolate for Draco floating behind her. The smell of tea still made Draco queasy, but she was drinking some kind of fruit tea, and that wasn't so bad. Besides, he had a nice cup of hot chocolate, and that was perfect.

"So, Draco," Poppy started after seating herself into another armchair. "I don't usual pay any heed to what the _Prophet_ says, but it seems they were right with at least one thing. I don't mean to be nosey, but do you have found a name already?"

Draco smirked. "It's a boy, and his name is Anakin James. I'm six months along."

"James?", Minerva repeated. "After his father?"

"His grandfather." Draco actually managed to keep a straight expression. When he saw her make the connection, he really wanted to cackle, but he restrained himself.

"Oh," Minerva said, visibly stunned. "Oh. I see."

Poppy giggled. "I say I'm not that surprised. And it's not like it's important anyhow."

Draco shrugged.

"But the _Prophet_ …" Minerva continued, still shocked, but visibly caught herself. "Forgive me, Draco. I didn't mean to pry."

Draco shrugged again. "Poppy is right, it's not important. And it was not like I expected anything else. After all, I'm still Draco Malfoy." He rose an eyebrow in resemblance of his favourite expression from the past, and Minerva frowned. But before she could say anything, Raleigh turned away from Dumbledore, apparently having finished the conversation, crouched down and started to talk to Anakin. She was eating some kind of sweet, and Draco pushed a few strands of red-blond hair out of her eyes before turning to Dumbledore.

"You shouldn't give her too many sweets, or she'll bounce off the walls."

"Don't worry, Draco, I only introduced her to the delights of sherbet lemons," Dumbledore winked, and Draco shivered mockingly. He and Dumbledore had made a point of arguing about sweets every now and then.

He turned back to Minerva and Poppy only to find them watching Raleigh curiously. Draco had totally forgotten that other people wouldn't be used to her talking to his son.

"She talks to him often," he explained.

"Really? Why does she do that?" Poppy asked curiously.

"I suppose she likes him. It's like an invisible friend for other children, I suppose; sometimes she has real conversations with him as if he were answering."

Minerva looked up. "Isn't she a little too young for that?"

"Possibly." Draco shrugged. "But Anakin isn't made-up or invisible either."

"I heard that name somewhere before," Dumbledore mused. "I just can't seem to remember where."

"It's from a names book, I think it was muggle, so I wouldn't know," Draco replied.

"Well. I guess I'll remember it sometime, or I won't."

Draco nodded, bemused. "I guess that's true."

Suddenly, Minerva sat up straighter. "Do forgive me for forgetting to ask, Draco; are you hungry? We're having dinner in an hour, but I imagine the travel was tiring, and I heard during pregnancy, you should eat whenever you are hungry."

Draco opened his mouth to politely decline, but found he couldn't. He thought of ranch dressing; it had been way too long since he'd last had had any. With pineapple and shredded cheddar… and maybe olives and pickles and chocolate chips…

Seeing his expression, Dumbledore smiled amused and called for a house-elf. His smile waned, though, when he heard Draco's order and step by step instructions on how to make it, and Minerva and Poppy looked a little queasy.

"Ranch dressing? With pineapple?" Poppy repeated after the house-elf was gone. "Are you sure…?"

"He eats that all the time," came a voice from behind her before Draco could answer. Enam grinned, and after getting introduced to Poppy sat down in the remaining armchair. "You don't want to see what else he eats. Best don't look his way during meals, and if you see him eating chocolate cake with mustard, just pretend you haven't noticed anything unusual."

"Chocolate cake with mustard?" Minerva repeated incredulously.

"Well, it tastes great. Don't speak ill of it until you haven't tried it," Draco defended himself. He knew the combinations he came up with were sometimes a little questionable, but really, it was awesome. That chocolate cake with mustard had been pure delight.

"An acquaintance of mine favoured coal when she was pregnant. She always carried a piece with her to lick," Dumbledore mused.

"It's normal." Enam shrugged. "Because of the minerals, you know? Only when you want to eat non-food it gets dangerous."

"Like metal, or grass, or stones," Draco added when Minerva looked puzzled. "And I have never felt the urge to eat any of that."

"So how is New Zealand?"

"Warm," Enam said immediately. "It's summer now. Only yesterday we were having a picnic lunch at the beach."

"I can't even remember what the sun is like," Poppy replied dryly. "We've had only rain and wind and snow this year, and it got colder and colder. And I have a feeling we are not over it yet. I'm sure the lake will have frozen thick enough to ice skate before it gets warmer."

They continued chatting; after a while, Cara showed up, and Draco stood up to leave her his seat on the sofa. Of course she protested, but he had wanted to go and talk to Flitwick anyway, and so she conceded.

Flitwick was there with his wife, a long-legged, white-haired woman that still had a certain grace in her movements. It was obvious she had been a beauty in youth, and Draco really, really wondered what had connected her with Flitwick, who was a nice man alright, but only reached to her mid-thigh.

…on the other hand, he didn't want to know.

And so the time until dinner passed with socialising; and it wasn't even as uncomfortable as it had always been in the past for Draco. He had always hated moving along a crowd of adult people and making polite conversation and small talk, trying to be intelligent and friendly and not embarrassing himself along the way. He had been a little apprehensive because he had feared people would ask probing questions about his pregnancy, his son, his son's other parent, the _Prophet_ , generally what he was doing right now… he had even prepared for the possible scenario of being accused of being irresponsible for bringing a child into the world when he was but a child himself, and when his situation and possible his character as well was so unfavourable for raising a child.

But of course, he had been imagining the worst possible situation again and not taken into account that these people, Hogwarts' teachers, weren't like that. He supposed after years of teaching a bunch of dramatic, pubertal teenagers, one just had to adopt a certain calm or you'd go crazy. It definitely wasn't a job for him, he mused.

He had received a few comments on his choice of snack, though. At first came a curious question, and then the expression changed to straining to look politely calm and not reveal the disgust they really felt when imagining his food combination. But he was more amused by that than anything else, and quite a few were very amused too and unburied their own stories of strange food combinations; be it by children, other pregnant people or just slightly loony people like Dumbledore.

Dumbledore, Snape revealed, liked muffins with crushed lemon drops inside instead of chocolate chips. This time Draco was the one who found that disgusting.

After a while, the house-elves appeared and shooed them out of the way to put up the tables; it seemed dinner would be held in the staff room. Dumbledore had winked and said the decoration of the Great Hall was something to be revealed the following day and not when everyone was tired.

Well, everyone but those who were used to the twelve hour time difference of New Zealand; it was still morning there.

When Cara pointed that out, Snape pulled out four vials. "For you," he had said dryly. It was a sleeping draught created only for the purpose of adapting to different time zones; two vials were for Draco, who required a different potion because he was pregnant, and the other two were for Raleigh, Enam and Cara. The first vial was filled with a clear blue potion, which was for going to sleep, and the other one was yellow for after waking up the first time.

Draco was fairly sure such a potion hadn't existed before, at least not for pregnant people, but when he asked, Snape only threw him a long look. So he kept silent, but he was secretly touched that Snape would adapt a potion especially for him – he was sure that was what had happened, and if Snape had only taken an existing potion for time zone adaption and had adapted it to his being pregnant.

During dinner, he sat with Raleigh again; she had insisted she sit with Anakin, and who was he to argue?

Overall, they had a very good time. Draco caught up with everyone and grew sometimes really nostalgic; even or maybe especially knowing he'd never come back for good again, Hogwarts was still a place he associated with peace and good memories. Of course he knew that wasn't true and that his life here hadn't been peaceful at all, but for nostalgia's sake he could pretend it had been.

They stayed at the gathering for hours, and after everyone had gone to bed they took the sleeping potion – one spoonful, half a spoon for Raleigh – and went to bed themselves.


	20. Chapter Nineteen: Christmas

_26 weeks, five days_

Draco woke up, not feeling disoriented at all. He knew he was at Hogwarts, recognised it by smell and atmosphere and aura and feeling.

He felt protected.

It was stupid to have so close ties to a place that wasn't his and could never be; he knew that. But he couldn't help it, Hogwarts had always equalled being safe for him, especially when his real home, Malfoy Manor, suddenly had not.

Lying on his side facing the window, his stomach supported by a flat pillow, Draco pondered getting up. The clock on the nightstand told him it was only half past eight in the morning; that potion of Snape's had done wonders. He had fallen asleep the moment he had lied down, and slept through as deeply and comfortable as if he had been living in the English time zone for all his life. Which he technically had, but not in the past months.

When had he left England? Somewhere in the middle of August. And now it was the end of December. Four months.

A long time.

In August, he had still been afraid and angry and depressed; he could admit that now. He hadn't had a stomach yet and barely known anything of carrying a child, despite all those books he had bought. His son hadn't had his name yet, he hadn't had a family yet.

His life now was so different. Not better in quality, but in a different way, the quality of his life had increased drastically. Not only had he a family he could count on now and that he knew would stand with him no matter what – he was still slightly awed by that – but he also had a son. Sure, he had had Anakin in August already, but he hadn't really connected to him yet; not on the deep, emotional level he knew would never change or fade. He had been his son then, yes, and he had valued him already a lot, but their connection had been vague and more of the rational kind, rather out of duty than of love.

Now he'd do anything and everything, no matter what, to ensure Anakin's happiness.

His grumbling stomach and full bladder reminded him that there were two things he could do for Anakin right now, and so Draco sighed deeply, taking in Hogwarts calm morning atmosphere again, and got up.

Half an hour later, he knocked on the Gabriels' door, and a bouncy Raleigh opened the door and hugged his legs. Grabbing the door frame for balance, Draco laughed and ruffled her hair. It was a really sad thing he couldn't carry her around anymore; he had enjoyed picking her up for a hug or giving her a piggy-back ride somewhere. Now, he was already carrying a very noticeable Anakin, and two children were a little too much weight for his back.

"Morning Draco!" Cara, still in her pyjama, came to kiss him on the cheek. "My husband dearest has taken a quick trip to the loo, but when he gets back, we can start with the presents."

"Presents!", Raleigh chirped excitedly and bounced on her feet. "We'll get presents, Dray!"

"I know, honey. And I see you're dressed already; is that a new robe you're wearing?"

She shook her head, tugging at the yellow robe with blue and purple butterflies floating around, lazily dipping their wings from time to time. "No, is for winter."

"Oh, of course. How could I forget?"

"I don't know." She shrugged, having picked up the gesture from the adults, and then quickly pulled him over into her room, where presents were laid on the foot of her bed. Draco sat down, pulled her to him and asked her which present she was going to open first, keeping her occupied until her parents came. When they did, though, there was no holding her back anymore; she pounced on the nearest one and started tearing the paper away with loud, impatient rips.

Her parents and Draco watched her, amused, while she squeaked and laughed over the presents she unpacked; children's toys, mostly, but also some books. Draco had given her his favourite book from childhood; it was about a small dragon that wasn't like the other dragons for it didn't enjoy violence and tried to find a place in the world he could be in peace. He had asked Cookie to wrap it up and have Kibby bring it with her; his own name was still scrawled inside with an awkward hand, still unused to the quill.

Draco was distracted, though, when Cara and Enam gave him their present. It was a single card. He opened it, read what Cara had written inside with her wide, curvy hand and immediately found himself close to tears.

"You're mad," he whispered, darting up a fleeting glance before looking down again.

"No, we're not," Cara replied softly. "We didn't even need to think about it much. We know you're perfect. You love Raleigh, and she loves you, and we're absolutely convinced you'll be a wonderful father. You're perfect."

Draco sniffled, and warm arms engulfed him in a hug as tight as possible with his growing stomach in the way.

"Alrigh', Draco?", Raleigh's worried and confused voice reached him, and he sniffed and nodded. Cara let him go, and he pulled out his handkerchief to rub at his eyes and nose. "I'm just happy, sweety."

She furrowed her brows; in her worldview, happy people laughed, and sad people cried.

"Raleigh, listen," Enam turned to his daughter. "We made Draco your godfather. Do you know what that means?"

Raleigh shook her head. "No."

"That's a person that will take care of you if something happens to me and your mother, like with your real parents. So if we have an accident, you will go to Draco and he will raise you as if you were his own daughter. Do you understand?"

Slowly, she nodded. She probably didn't really, but that was alright. She was only two years old, after all.

Draco reached to pull her into a hug. "I'm just very happy about being your godfather. It's a good thing."

"Okay." She still looked doubtful, but Cara showed her a present she hadn't opened yet, and she was quickly distracted again.

Looking at Enam and Cara, Draco opened his mouth, but Enam held up a hand. "If this is going to be a protest, we don't want to hear it. Our decision is final."

Draco smiled. "I only wanted to say thank you."

"It's we who thank you. This is a backhanded present." Cara giggled.

"Well, uh. That kind of makes my present to you a little unoriginal, I suppose." Draco cleared his throat. "It seems like we kind of have had the same idea."

Cara's eyes widened. "What, really? You want us to be Anakin's godparents?"

Draco nodded. "And not because you're the only people really available. I just… I thought if something happened to me, he'd be perfectly happy with you."

"Oh, no, now I'll cry…" Cara sniffled and rubbed her eyes with the sleeves of her pyjama. "You're really sure?"

"Of course. I didn't have to think long either." Or at all.

Enam put a hand on his wife's shoulder and pulled Draco into a one-armed hug. "Thank you. We're honoured."

"I am, as well," Draco replied, smiling.

After Raleigh had unpacked everything, Draco helped her get dressed while her parents were doing the same, and together they made their way down to the Great Hall for breakfast. Raleigh had insisted on wearing the new hat her aunt had sent her; it was neon green, and a colourful, small stuffed bird was sitting on the tip and chirped whenever someone touched it. After Raleigh had realised she couldn't wear it and touch the bird at the same time, she had appointed Draco to take care of it; meaning, to touch it so it'd chirp. And Draco didn't mind; every time she heard it, she'd cheer, and she was wearing an expression of pure delight that was so adorable not even Snape could have resisted.

The moment they entered the Great Hall that was decorated wonderfully, Enam and Draco glanced at each other and waited for Cara and Raleigh's reactions when they saw the sky. It was blue with only a few clouds; one of those winter skies that could have easily passed as a summer sky.

Suffice to say, both Cara and Raleigh were amazed and stood staring up at the sky a long time. Their faces matched those of the first years that had never heard of the Great Hall or it's sky before, and Draco and Enam grinned and patiently waited for them before going to the single table that stood in the middle of the hall.

A few teachers were already present and greeted them happily; the few students that had stayed for the holidays more or less gawked at Draco, who ignored them. Happily, he sat down next to Snape; Raleigh once again insisted on sitting next to Anakin, and her parents sat down on her other side.

"Brat," was Snape's greeting; he was wearing the sour expression he always wore when he was happy. Draco had found a very rare book of native Māori potions at the wizarding market on Aotea Island and immediately bought it to give as a present for Christmas to Snape. Snape was simply unable to properly express happiness or gratefulness, but Draco understood him and could see that he was truly pleased, and that was all that mattered.

"Bat," he replied good-naturedly and started to pile food on his table.

It was just the typical happy, good-humoured Hogwarts Christmas breakfast Draco remembered from the few times he had attended; everyone was smiling and chattering, and it generally felt not like a bunch of individuals, but like one, big group. Dumbledore, after noticing Draco's choice of breakfast – bacon with honey, again – started up a conversation about foods strange to some people, but totally normal to others; for example, some native tribes in Africa mixed goat's blood with goat's milk, mixed it and drank the result. It sounded totally disgusting to him, but was a normal part of diet for them.

In the course of the meal, Raleigh climbed on Draco's lap and started to talk to Snape, who at first tried to ignore her, then, when that didn't work, replied in short answers and finally had to capitulate as Draco had known he would all along; if Raleigh had taken a liking to him, then there was no way out. In the end, Raleigh managed to bring him to touch her bird; with his disgust evident on his face, Snape reached, nudged it, and pulled his hand back as if burnt. And Raleigh laughed in delight when the bird started to chirp and threw her arms around the stunned man. Everyone who had been watching tried to stifle their chuckles at his horrified expression. When Snape immediately started to dish out glares, they all quickly looked away again and pretended they hadn't noticed anything all along and had actually been busy with someone or something else.

Raleigh, though, had obviously taken a liking to Snape and stayed in his lap despite his trying to get rid of her. Draco knew that she didn't pay attention to what was on the outside, but what was on the inside; Snape wasn't the cold, grumpy teacher who hated children like he liked to make others believe. There was a lot more to him than many people were even capable of finding out, and Raleigh, while maybe not seeing it, knew that Severus Snape wasn't dangerous, just like she knew Anakin was there even though she couldn't see him. And if someone paid attention, they could see that Snape's arms were always ready to catch her should she slip and fall whenever she moved.

The breakfast lasted a lot longer than a mere meal; nearly everyone stayed together to chat long after the house-elves had cleared the table. They had put everything away but self-refilling cups of tea, coffee and hot chocolate and bowls of cookies. At Draco's request, they had given him a bowl of ranch-dressing to dip the cookies in, and he was happy. Raleigh was starting to get impatient, though; she had gotten to know everyone and then had been given a colour-crayon and parchment to busy herself, but she had painted enough in her opinion.

"Hey Ray, let's go outside," Draco finally suggested after she had started to get whiney and get on people's nerves.

Cara sat up. "Oh, no, Draco, you stay here. I'll go with her."

"Rubbish." Draco waved her protest aside. "I wanted to take a walk anyway, we might as well do it together. Right Ray?"

Raleigh nodded, beaming. Standing up, Draco took her hand, they said goodbye to everyone and headed for their rooms to dress warmer. Raleigh owned a very cute red cloak with matching red legwarmers and solid, waterproofed shoes, and Draco put on the wide white pelt-seamed cloak Kibby had brought him. They put on gloves, shawls and ear-warmers – Draco coloured his gloves and shawl red with a charm to match Raleigh, and Raleigh insisted he colour hers white – and headed outside. Raleigh's ear-warmers were in the shapes of flowers; it looked very cute. While they made their way through the corridors, Raleigh tried to convince him to match his own ear-warmers to hers, and after a teary-eyed look and the sniffled question whether he didn't like hers, Draco capitulated and transformed his ear-warmers into a shape vaguely like Raleigh's, only less colourful. He kept them simply white. Still, Raleigh was beaming.

She had really changed him, Draco thought. In the past, he would never have even dreamed of wearing flower-shaped ear-warmers; now, he just didn't care. It were his ears, and it didn't matter how he warmed them; it was nobody's business but his, and if he wanted flowers, then he would wear flowers. He had lightened up a great deal; he hadn't even realised it, but in the past, he had always been so tense, so aware of what people thought of him and his actions – he had let their opinions direct him. But it had taken nothing more than the company of a little girl – and the knowledge that he had a little boy growing inside of him, he supposed – to change that. Now, he could care less what people thought of him. What was it to him? It was his life.

And he was glad he now had the strength to be himself without giving a damn about anybody else.

Once they were outside, Raleigh squealed happily and jumped into the snow like a whirlwind, and with a smile Draco set into a very slow walk down to the lake.


	21. Chapter Twenty: Gravity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title slightly inspired by the song Gravity of Love by Enigma.

"Anakin likes snow too?", Raleigh asked. She was sitting next to him on the rock he had sat down on almost an hour ago, out of breath. Draco had used flicks of his wand to whirl up the snow to amuse her; she had been covered head to toe in the frozen water when he had finally called her over to dry her and let her catch her breath.

"I'm sure he will," he replied, amused. Usually Raleigh deemed herself the expert on what Anakin liked and what he didn't want. It had come to a degree that had Draco worried whether she would accept the real Anakin when he was born; the Anakin who couldn't do much more than cry and sleep at first and who'd later develop a personality that may be totally opposite of what she had made him up to be. But that was so far in the future, and he just hoped Raleigh would have forgotten everything when the time came. Besides, he had read little girls (and boys too) always wanted to baby their younger siblings, and when she saw Anakin as he really was – a small, newborn baby – he hoped her mothering-instincts would kick in and she'd stop thinking of him as her companion. Not that he didn't want that; in fact, he really loved the image of her and Anakin playing side by side, as close as siblings could be. But he didn't want her to resent him when he turned out to be different from her fantasies.

"Dray, why is there no snow in Zeeland?" With Zeeland, she meant New Zealand; it had taken a lot of practice until she had been able to pronounce it in a way that vaguely resembled its real name.

"Because in New Zealand, it's summer right now. Do you know why?"

She shook her head, looking up at her with big eyes.

"You do know what the world looks like, right?"

Hesitantly, Raleigh furrowed her brows before nodding shortly. Draco thought it was better to give her an example. Flicking his wand, he gathered up two handfuls of snow and quickly shaped them into a ball.

"Okay, this is the world. England is here, on the upper half of the world. The upper half of the world has now winter. The lower half, where New Zealand is – here – has now summer. And when England has supper, New Zealand has winter. Do you understand?"

She nodded. "Why?"

"Uhm." Draco bit his lip. They had learned that in Astronomy, but it was a very difficult concept, especially for a three-years-old. "That's too complicated for you to understand right now. I'll explain it to you when you're older, okay?"

"Okay," she replied easily. Sometimes, she could be a real angel. Then again, at other times, not so much.

"Good. Now, do you know how to make snow angels?"

Raleigh looked at him with wide eyes, shaking her head. "Real angels?"

"Yes. Come, I'll show you." He took her hand and searched for an untouched bit of snow. That wasn't a too easy task as they'd been here for a while already, and they had both messed up the snow a lot. But he found a big enough area for many snow angels indeed.

"Okay. I'll help you." He took her hands and navigated her until she stood with her back to the area of untouched snow. "Let yourself fall back, like in your bed, but keep your arms to your sides. Don't worry, the snow will catch you."

She shook her head, looking frightened.

"Uhm… well, if you don't want to you can sit down, but be careful not to mess up the snow, okay? I'll hold your hands."

Draco helped her sit and then lie down. "Good. Now move your arms up and down, and your legs, but don't let your arms touch your legs, okay?"

Looking adorably confused, Raleigh did as she was told, and Draco watched until he thought the angel was visible enough. "Okay, stop. I'll pull you up with magic, don't be scared." Gently, he levitated her up and pulled her away from the angel. Raleigh giggled; she always loved flying, even though she was never levitated very high and never without a bed underneath her. She then pretended she was an angel or a fairy then, just like she did now.

"Now look down. Do you see it?"

"An angel!", she called out, amazed. Then she laughed delighted. "Again!"

"Sure." Draco helped her do a whole bunch of angels, and she started making up stories about them and giving them names. After she had made one she called Raleigh, she looked at him expectantly and demanded he do a Draco-angel. Draco tried to refuse, knowing he wouldn't get up so easily, but all the angels had dragged up memories of him and his parents doing a whole army of snow angels in their garden so many times. It was one of his favourite memories, and to the day he thought making snow angels alone was one of the saddest things in the world. And after he had thought that, he couldn't very much let her do it alone anymore, could he?

With a dry sigh, Draco tucked his wand away and carefully lowered himself to the ground. Raleigh lay down next to him, and together they made two snow angels.

And, as he had thought, Draco found he couldn't get up. He made it to his elbows, but his stomach was heavy and in the way, and he didn't made it farther. With a laugh, he let himself fall back again. Besides him, Raleigh stood inside of her own angel and giggled. He supposed he was looking really ridiculous.

"Well, sweetheart, I can't get up."

She stopped laughing and crouched down, looking at him with big eyes. "And now?"

"I don't know. I guess I'll have to stay here until someone comes and helps me up."

"I'll help!"

"Honey, you're a lot lighter than I am. If I let you help me, you'll fall."

She tilted her head and took one look around. "Wait, I'll get help."

"No, that's not- Raleigh! Wait!" But she was running away already. Draco struggled to get on his elbows to at least watch her while she made her way to the castle, only to find her running towards a man in a dark cloak standing maybe twenty metres apart from them, apparently watching. A chill ran down Draco's spine; he didn't like the thought of having been watched without his knowledge. Grabbing his wand, he was ready to summon Raleigh if the man did anything to her; he would have to catch her with a cushioning charm, but that was better than watching her being dragged away by some child molester. How had the man gotten on Hogwarts Ground, anyway? Draco knew not everybody could simply enter school property, and if somebody tried, Dumbledore would know. Surely the entering of school ground by an unknown man would have made the headmaster come down already?

Suspiciously and also a little frightened, he watched Raleigh talk to the man. So far everything seemed alright. Suddenly, Raleigh turned around again and ran back to Draco, but it didn't seem like she was scared, more like she usually ran when she was excited. The man started to lazily follow her, and Draco waited until Raleigh was squatting down next to him. He opened his mouth to berate her – she knew better than talking to strangers, he had thought – when his eyes flickered back to the figure and his breath stopped.

No.

Close to him, Raleigh said something, but Draco was unable to pay attention to her for much more than registering that; it couldn't be. Not now, when he had finally relaxed.

"Draco," Potter greeted when he was within hearing range. His expression was unreadable.

Draco swallowed down his shock and the spike of anger and fear intertwined inextricably he had felt the second he had recognised him. There was no reason to fear Potter; there was nothing he could do to him or Anakin, and nothing he would do to Raleigh. Anger was understandable, but Potter didn't deserve to know of his real feelings for him. The man was an acquaintance, nothing more.

Now he only needed to make himself believe that.

He nodded coolly. "Potter."

"Need a hand?"

In a blink of an eye, a whole bunch of replies ran through his head. He could say yes, but then Potter would think he had done him a favour, that Draco needed his help and that he had an advantage. The petty, childish voice from his past suggested "Not from you", but he knew that would result in an argument, and he wanted nothing to do with Potter; nothing at all. Not even an argument. So he settled for a collected, chilly "No, thanks" and lowered himself on his back again, looking up into the sky. A clear dismissal for anyone but Potter.

"Dray? You don't want to get up?", Raleigh asked, confused, and Draco turned his head to look at her – away from Potter – and smiled. "No, honey. I want to watch the sky a little."

Tilting her head back, Raleigh looked up into the sky that was more grey than blue today, the clouds chasing each other at a rapid pace, and back at Draco again. Draco moved his arm invitingly and asked, "Want to join me?" Raleigh looked doubtful, but still sat down next to him and cuddled into his side, looking up into the sky as well. He supposed she was a bit daunted by his reaction; she wasn't used to this side of him. On the other hand, she usually didn't talk to strangers either. But apparently, Potter's charm affected anyone down to small children, Draco thought with disgust at his own pounding heart.

He couldn't help it; he hadn't seen Potter since their meeting at the Leaky Cauldron, and even though the memory wasn't pleasant, it was still a memory of Potter. Come to think about it, he barely had any memories of Potter being nice – at least to him. It appeared he was a real masochist for liking the git.

With a jolt, Draco realised it was true. No matter that had happened, what Potter had said to him – and the gist of it was nothing new to Draco – he still liked the prat.

 _Dear Merlin, I never realised_ , he thought, shuddering inwardly.

And Potter was still standing there, not moving towards them, not walking away. Draco couldn't see him unless he would glance to the side, something he refused to do for it'd reveal his nervousness to Potter, but he felt his presence like the compass needle felt north.

Draco didn't know how long he lay there, Raleigh cuddled to his side; it couldn't be for long. Once he renewed his warming charm over both of them, and Potter was so silent Draco could almost believe he had gone, but he would have heard his steps in the snow, if nothing else.

Slowly, it started to snow; he didn't see the white flakes floating down against the equally white sky until they were close enough to touch them, and there were only a few, barely worth mentioning. Raleigh shifted, and Draco knew she would soon start to get impatient; even with all the energy she had spent while playing, she was quick to recover.

Potter shifted a little closer; he could see his shade in the corner of his eye, but he didn't turn his head to look, even though it only needed one tiny movement, surely barely recognisable.

"You can't lie here in the cold all day, Draco," Potter finally spoke.

"I can't remember given you permission to refer to me by my first name, Potter. And what I do or do not do does not concern you in any way."

Potter shifted again, and Draco prepared for an argument. But what Potter said surprised him. "That's true. But I don't want you to lie here in the cold just because… just because it's me who's here. If I were anyone else, you'd let them lend you a hand, wouldn't you?"

"That does not concern you. Now kindly leave us alone."

At least now, Draco would have expected a sign of frustration from Potter, but there was nothing. It seemed he wasn't the only one who had changed in the past months – but maybe Potter was only restraining himself, which, while being a change in itself, was not enough.

"Please, Draco. I just want to help you up. You're… please."

Draco couldn't help it; he had never heard this undertone in Potter's voice, and before he could actively think about it, he had already turned his head to look at the former Gryffindor. He noticed immediately that something had changed; he didn't know what, just that something was different. He found himself unable to explain how he had noticed that; it was something in Potter's expression, a calmness maybe, but not quite. It was like a layer had been placed over the young man's face, a layer that looked exactly like his real face, but was still different. It was hard to explain.

He would have loved to say no just to make his point, but it was getting cold, and he knew the warming charm would sooner or later melt the snow even though it had been designed purposefully for playing in the snow, and he and Raleigh would get wet. And no matter what, he couldn't get sick; it'd endanger Anakin and him both too much.

And so, looking Potter in the eye all the time and giving the gesture a lot more meaning than it needed, he raised his hand a little. Immediately, relief shone in Potter's eyes, and he reached to take Draco's hand, almost tentatively at first, and helped him up. Raleigh, who had been strangely silent – Draco was sure she had sensed something, the tension between them – stood up as well and timidly reached for his hand. Draco immediately let go of Potter once he stood securely and took Raleigh's hand. Then he looked back at the blackhead, raised one eyebrow and said dryly, "Well, thanks, Potter", making it sound less meaningful than the words implied.

Potter smiled fleetingly, and for a second Draco was almost sure he was nervous. But he couldn't be, could he? With what reason? He had to have been wrong, had he?

"Uhm," Potter said, eyes flickering to Draco and away again, leaving absolutely no doubt: he was nervous or, at least, insecure; at heart the same. "I came to talk to you. If you have time, that is. I mean. Uhm." Potter bit his lip and frowned at the lake. "I just want… to talk."

Draco inwardly shook his head and allowed himself a spike of amusement, even though he knew the coolness in his eyes would wane a little. "I see."

Potter shifted. "Er. Do you have time?"

"When?" Raleigh leaned into his leg, reminding Draco of her presence, and he put a hand on her head as a sign for her that he hadn't forgotten her.

"Erm, I don't know, now?"

"No." When he got back into the castle, he'd leave Raleigh with her parents, and then he'd go to the bathroom and never get out again. He didn't know what to think; he was confused and upset by Potter's presence, still so afraid and apprehensive. His inner voice screamed at him to run, but he knew he couldn't, in more ways than the physical one. And then there was Potter's strange behaviour; he had no idea what to make out of it, and he knew that, while he didn't have to talk to Potter at all if he didn't want to, he wouldn't stop thinking about it until he knew what Potter wanted. "Come back tomorrow afternoon."

Potter's smile was so painfully relieved that Draco was almost embarrassed. "Okay. I will. Thank you. I know you don't have to do this. Thanks. So… I'll see you tomorrow. Right. Bye." But he didn't turn around, just stood there smiling stupidly broad, and Draco hated that he didn't want to leave either. Potter had never ever smiled at him like that, he'd only ever- but that was no reason to get silly. With an hopefully invisible nudge at himself, Draco nodded tersely, turned around and left, Raleigh tripping along next to him.


	22. Chapter Twenty-One: If faced with an open mind

_26 weeks, six days_

The following afternoon, Draco paced in his room, unable to sit still. He had been nervous ever since this meeting with Potter; when he had gotten back into the castle, his hands had been trembling so much he had had to sit down for a while to catch his breath. Raleigh had been very spooked; timidly, she had reached to touch his face and hair until he had managed to reassure her that he was fine. Bless her, she hadn't asked any questions about Potter; at least not him. Maybe she had asked her parents.

Enam and Cara. They had looked as spooked as Raleigh had; he supposed there was something wrong with his expression. But he hadn't stayed long enough for them to ask any questions – well, not long enough to answer the questions they asked. He had only shaken his head, told them he had to think for a while and left for the prefects' bathroom and the big bathtub there.

Later, he couldn't really recall what he had thought; just that it had been about Potter and anything related. He had reviewed past encounters of theirs; before, during and after the war, his thoughts and feelings about Potter and their situations. He hadn't really come to a conclusion or an idea how to act; everything was swirling around in his head, irrevocably intertwined and still disconnected, and he had only ended feeling more twitchy and insecure than he already had.

He hated this. He hated not knowing what to do; not even having a clear recollection of what he was feeling or should feel, on how to act or react, what to expect. He knew nothing, and it was driving him mad. There was nothing he could orient on; no solution or goal. This whole situation was fucked up, nothing was simple or clear, least of all what he wanted.

Draco just didn't know.

Suffice to say, he hadn't enjoyed the Christmas Banquet in the least. He had been quiet and withdrawn, and more than one person had asked him if he was feeling well. In the end, Draco had excused himself and left early, feeling bad for making Cara and Enam worry, but no idea what else to do. When one of them had checked on him later, he had pretended to be asleep and, after lying awake for a while, had finally resolved to taking the potion Snape had made for him, even though Snape had said it shouldn't be necessary to take it more than once.

Breakfast had been similar, though now people just threw him glances, no doubt knowing that he had met Potter the day before; Draco was sure it had been Dumbledore's machinations. If he had not told Potter Draco would be there for Christmas, he had at least not denied it; it was highly possible that someone had recognised Draco at the Ministry and run to tell Potter. And Potter had only needed to check the Manor, which was still under lockdown, and then Hogwarts to find him. If Draco had been at the Gabriel's, he'd have been safe, but at Hogwarts… it was a public place.

After breakfast, he had at least managed to tell Enam a little bit; he and Cara hadn't heard that Potter had been there, and so Draco had at least told them that. Cara had then left to tend to Raleigh, who had needed help in the bathroom, and Enam had with his quiet, non-assuming presence put an arm around Draco; an unusual sign of affection, and Draco had sniffled a little.

"I just don't know what to do," he had said, hating the insecurity in his own voice but knowing that Enam wouldn't think any less of him for it. "He… he was so different and strange. I can't figure out what he wants, and so I can't prepare to fight him. It… it's like knowing you're going out into an ice storm with no protection for your clothes have been taken away from you before you even knew you'd need them, and you can do nothing to get them back or prepare yourself for what you know will come."

"That must be terrible," Enam had said quietly. "But know that you won't ever be without protection for real; if you have to go out into the storm, know that you won't be out there for long, because you'll come upon a house with bright windows and a warm fire waiting for you, and we'll have clothes and blankets waiting to warm you up again."

That had made Draco sniffle again, but for an entirely different reason. He didn't know what he had done to deserve those people that had accepted him into their family without a second thought, but he was damn glad they were there for him, and he would protect them with anything he had if need be.

But when lunchtime came, Draco was so fidgety he had skipped the meal entirely, knowing he couldn't stomach anything anyway. He cursed himself for not Potter giving a time when to meet; now he wouldn't know when he came and was even more nervous, twitching at the slightest noise, always expecting Potter to knock.

Earlier, he had thought about the fact that Potter didn't know where he was staying, but that wasn't his problem; nasty and unable to help the slight feeling of betrayal he felt, Draco thought that Potter could ask Dumbledore again.

He should have known that Dumbledore would side with his Golden Boy; the one who had defeated Voldemort for him and saved the Wizarding World at his command.

With an agitated sigh, Draco not quite threw himself into the armchair by the fire, staring into the merrily cracking flames and trying to calm down a little.

And, naturally, that was when _somebody_ knocked on his door, making him jump. Taking a deep breath to calm his pounding heart, Draco rose, unnecessarily straightened his wrinkled robes a little and opened the door.

His first thought was, _he looks almost as nervous as I feel_ . Potter's hair was even more ruffled than usually, he had circles under his eyes – no doubt he didn't have the privilege of getting sleeping draughts from Snape – and his hands were shaking a little. "Uhm, hi," he said and smiled hesitantly. Draco almost caught himself in time from smiling back and had to clear his throat before replying. "Hello." He stepped aside to let Potter in and motioned to the two armchairs by the fire, trying to hide his own trembling fingers. Potter quickly stepped into his room and sat down on the armchair Draco had been sitting on before.

"Er," he said after Draco had sat down opposite him. "How are you?"

Draco shrugged, hopefully nonchalantly, but he doubted it. "Fine. You?"

"I'm okay too. Erm… uh, I don't really now how to start."

Raising an eyebrow, Draco didn't say anything. He had no idea either, and he also didn't know what Potter wanted to say, duh.

"I suppose I should start with an apology."

Draco blinked.

"I am sorry for overreacting like that when you told me about…" He made a sweeping motion with his hand, probably referring to Draco's pregnancy; Draco was slightly amused under his shocked surprise that Potter was unable to say it. "I had no right to say those awful things to you. I had a long time to think since then, and I know I haven't been exactly nice to you, even though you didn't deserve it anymore. Or at all. And… I'm sorry."

Potter swallowed, glanced up at Draco, who was stunned into motionlessness. He had never, ever expected that. If at all, he would have thought Potter was of the opinion that his reaction had been, while regretful, still understandable and he had had the right to say to Draco whatever he wanted.

"I… at first I was really angry at you, I don't know why. Maybe because… well, at heart I felt bad for treating you like that, but it took me a while to admit it to myself and acknowledge that I had overreacted and was in the wrong. And by the time I was ready to apologise, you had already long left England."

It seemed that, once having started talking, Potter was unable to stop, and Draco was unwilling to interrupt him.

"I won't go into detail what I felt since then; naturally, at first I blamed you for everything and anything that made me feel bad, but I know now that it isn't that easy. Neither of us is black or white, and we both made mistakes, and, well… I made the biggest one." Potter sighed. "Once I got over myself and told Hermione everything I said – even directly afterwards, when I was still so angry, I knew I had had no right to say those things, and I knew she'd be disappointed – she told me what I had really done. That I gave up any rights to the child I ever had. Don't worry," he quickly added after seeing Draco's expression, "I don't plan to fight it. Actually, I think it was for the better; if I hadn't done that, I would have never really thought about stuff and just tried to fight you on principle, and that wouldn't have been good for either of us, least of all the child."

"Anakin," Draco interrupted silently, voice hoarse.

"What?" Potter looked up.

"His name is Anakin."

"A boy," Potter whispered, a smile growing on his face. "Anakin," he tried it, then looked up and smiled brightly at Draco. "Thank you."

A little uncomfortable, Draco lowered his gaze, trying to hide the light blush spreading on his cheeks.

Potter continued to smile stupidly so long Draco glanced up again, wondering if he'd continue. That seemed to pull Potter out of his thoughts again, and he shifted. "Er, right. Where was I? Uhm… well. I wanted to say that I… I'd like to spend some time with… with Anakin. If you want to allow me, I mean. I'm sorry I overreacted like that; I should have been there for you, no matter what I personally thought. But maybe what happened was good; before I had time to rethink my actions and yours and what I used to think about you, I may have done the wrong thing at one point. Well, I wanted to say that… I am willing to totally cooperate with you, and if you allow me, I'd like to be there for you. If you want to. Just visit you, you know. Maybe. I mean…" Potter cleared his throat and silenced, probably embarrassed by his rambling.

Draco's mind was reeling. He didn't know what to say, what to think; this was like a parallel world where suddenly everything went as he wanted to, and frankly, he was unable to cope with the sudden change of direction. The wizarding world suddenly viewing – or rather, the _Daily Prophet_ portraying him – as someone who had been wronged was one thing, but for Potter to actually agree with them… frankly, he was unable to fully process that.

"You don't have to decide anything yet," Potter suddenly rushed out when Draco failed to answer. "I mean, that's a lot to take in, and it's a big decision, and, well, uhm… I best leave you to think about it. I'll come back tomorrow, or no wait, the day after that, if you're still here then?"

Numbly, Draco managed a jerky nod. Potter was suddenly in a hurry and he jumped up, straightened his robe, ran a hand through his hair and generally looked anywhere but at Draco.

"Uhm, okay, then in two days, afternoon again?"

He barely waited for Draco's once again nodded reply before rushing out of the room, leaving Draco sitting wide-eyed in his armchair, unable to grasp what had just happened.


	23. Chapter Twenty-Two: Decisions made in Dark and Light

Draco hadn't intended to go down to dinner; he knew he was looking horrible with his waxen skin and shadows under his eyes that were red from rubbing them and maybe crying. But Cara wouldn't have any of that; she had literally dragged him out of his room, saying he needed to eat, if not for his sake, then for Anakin's. That had stung, and he had dug his feet into the ground, telling her quite coldly that he had been taking care of his son, thank you very much.

"Oh, you know I didn't mean to imply something like that, hon. I know you're always placing Ani first, that's not at all what I meant. But you can't hide in there forever; Raleigh's been really quiet and we're all missing you."

Immediately, Draco felt bad. "I'm sorry for ruining this for you." They had been looking forward to this so much, and now he was dragging them down into his mood…

Cara stopped walking and turned around, placing her hands on his shoulders to look him straight in the eyes. "Draco. You're not ruining anything. We're having a great time, Hogwarts is truly beautiful. But we're a little worried about you; you're secluding yourself. You need to stop that. We understand if you want some time alone, but you shouldn't bury yourself like that. If you can't talk, you can at least enjoy our company, can't you?"

Draco couldn't help it; he smiled, if only weakly. "Of course I enjoy your company."

She nodded firmly. "Then come. We don't have time frolicking around, there's dinner we have to eat!"

He nodded and wanted to start walking again, but she stopped him with a hand on her arm, pulling out her wand. Tenderly bringing the tip to each of his eyes, she cast a charm that cooled his eyes and relieved them of the dryness, and then she tipped his cheeks, casting another charm he didn't recognise. When she had finished, she looked at him searchingly, nodded satisfied and pocketed her wand again. "There's no need for you to look like you've been in a fight," she explained.

Ruefully, Draco shook his head, and they walked to the Great Hall.

Some teachers – and all the students that were there – threw him 'subtle' glances, but he studiously ignored them, instead making sure that Raleigh was okay again, not wanting her to feel abandoned or left out anymore. She was a little hesitant at first and, when he had finally pulled her out of her shell and convinced her that he would be alright, she climbed onto his knees and was unusually clingy. But quickly, she returned to her usual chatty self and told him and Ani all about what she and her parents had done that day; how they had been to see her aunt, Cara's sister, in the morning and afterwards had played outside in the snow, and that later they had visited Snape.

With a quick glance, Draco noticed that Snape was sitting as far away from them as was physically possible, and he had to hold back a chuckle.

But Cara had been right; spending some time with the Gabriels had distracted and relieved him, and his thoughts weren't running circles anymore. Feeling better, Draco resolved he'd talk to one of them later.

After dinner – Draco hadn't really talked to anyone else but his family – Draco walked Raleigh back to the Gabriel's rooms; the little girl was thankfully totally back to her usual self. After bringing her to bed, he went back into the living room and sat down with Enam and Cara, sipping the hot chocolate they had brought him. They were waiting patiently until he was ready to speak, not urging him on in any way; the atmosphere was comfortable.

Draco swallowed. "He said he wanted to… I don't know, spend time with Ani, he said. And be there for me. He apologised for his behaviour."

"Hm." Enam took a sip of his tomato juice. "Do you believe him?"

"He seemed sincere. It's just, he has never done that before, you know?"

"Done what? Apologise?"

"Yes. Apologise to me. Admit he was wrong. Even consider the fact that his actions and reactions possibly may have not been totally justified."

"Then it's a good thing he does it now." Cara observed. "It shows he did a great deal of thinking."

"Yes. It's just that… there is still the fact that things ended in the _Prophet_. That may not have been his fault entirely, but it still happened, and not because of me; I took any means necessary to ensure our privacy. And of course there are still the searchings. He says he has been angry but understands now, but what happens if he gets angry again? Will it take another four months for him to realise his mistakes then? And what will he do before he thinks about his actions? I can't be on the run forever. He has so much power, and he has no problem to use it – I don't have any power at all but the strictest legal means, and I can only defend myself. I don't want that; not for myself, and especially not for Anakin. I want him to grow up in stability, safety and security, and love. I'm not sure I can provide that if Potter is around and makes hot-headed decisions whenever he's angry."

Cara nodded thoughtfully. "I can totally understand that… but you have to take in the real picture. Can you really take Anakin's father away? Because that'd be what you'd be doing. Before, it was Potter who was taking himself away, but he showed that this means something to him, admitted his errors and let you know of his wish, but is still letting you make all the decisions, as he should and as is your right and privilege. That's a pretty big step from the way he was behaving during your first talk."

Draco's shoulders sagged and he started to gnaw on his lower lip. "I know. I know, and it's just so hard, I don't know what to do – and I fear if I said no, he wouldn't let it go, try again, and not leave me alone until I made at least one little compromise. I just… I don't know." He sighed, defeated.

"Tell him." Enam said. Draco blinked. "Say that you have reasonable doubt he'll be sensible all the time; that he's fit to take part in the raising of a child, and even if he just sees Anakin once every two weeks. Tell him that it takes more than love to raise a child, and that you're not sure he'll not lose his temper again and try to make your life miserable again just like last time. That way, you make him aware of your doubts, and by your reaction you can tell how much he really has changed. Also, he'll see that you have thought a lot about childrearing and spent much time trying to get ready for it; he can't claim you're unfit to be a parent with a clear confidence knowing that. And you can chain any acknowledgements you make with conditions; if he loses his temper and does anything unreasonable that makes _him_ unfit to be a parent, you take away any concession you made; everything you agreed on is nil again, and he won't get it back. You can give him one chance, and only one. If he messes up, it's not your fault."

Draco stared at Enam in something akin to awe. "One rarely sees it, but you truly are a Slytherin at heart."

Enam raised one eyebrow, and Cara laughed. "Nobody but us knows his true self. It's good he's on our side, isn't it?"

Grinning, Draco nodded. And then he yawned, causing Cara to sit up abruptly.

"Draco! You're tired; go to bed now. You don't have to make any decision right at this moment. You can think about it all day tomorrow."

"Yes Ma'am." Obediently, Draco pushed himself up – he was getting heavier and heavier, he noted grumpily – and they said their goodnights. Feeling a lot better, Draco went to his room and got ready for bed.

As he lay there in the dark, one hand on his stomach with Anakin lazily nudging him, he knew he couldn't take this away from Potter and, a lot more important, from Anakin. If there even was one tiny chance that his son would have two parents, he'd try to take it for him. If Potter messed up again – well, there was nothing he could do then, but if he didn't… Draco wanted his son to be happy, and he'd definitely be happier when knowing his other father instead of only having heard of him as a distant figure that had never even tried to be in his life. The prefect solution, of course, would be if his parents were actually happy together and with each other, like Enam and Cara, but Draco didn't get his hopes up; he knew there was no chance for him and Potter.

If only his own stupid heart would believe that and stop fluttering so damn much whenever he thought of how close Potter had been the day before, how adorable he looked when he nervously chewed at his lower lip… and it was an entirely different adorable than Raleigh's adorable.

*

The following day, Draco woke up feeling refreshed and a lot better. He was still not entirely sure how to deal with Potter, but he at least knew what he wouldn't do: push Potter out of Anakin's and his life.

He went to pick up the Gabriels to go to breakfast together, and the first thing he got was a big bear hug from first Cara and then Raleigh, and then a pat and a wink from Enam. It seemed they were all glad he was getting better; he himself was, too. Once again he was thankful to have gotten such a wonderful family; it had, on top of everything else, made him aware of what had always been missing with his parents. He still felt the pang of loss when thinking about them, as well as a mix of regret, hurt, anger and a bit of desperation; he'd never get the answers he so longed for. But he had his own life now, with a son on the way, and he was able to let it rest a little more every passing day. What was done was done; he couldn't change the past, and questioning it would get him nowhere.

After breakfast, he spent some time with Raleigh painting in her room; she was drawing pictures for Snape, and Draco was barely able to contain his laughter when he saw the cheery, girly, colourful things she drew. Butterflies and flowers and a big laughing sun, and a few people.

"Who is that?"

"That's Raleigh, and Anakin, and Draco," she answered willingly.

"Oh. And where are your parents?"

She blinked in confusion. "But Snappy likes us, not mommy and daddy." Snappy was her name for Snape that the potions master so far knew nothing about, but it was only a matter of time. He'd have a real hard time re-establishing his authority when the rumours got out after the holidays…

"I see. So you draw only people he likes?"

She nodded and turned back to her picture, humming happily.

Draco was highly amused, and he resolved to be there when she gave the picture to Snape. She would insist he put it on the wall immediately, and if she ever saw he had taken it down, she'd start to cry. He knew that because once a picture of hers had dropped off the wall, the sticking charm weakening, and she had broken into tears, believing somebody had thought it was ugly and had thus removed it.

They went to lunch together, and then Cara took Raleigh to bed for her afternoon nap. Draco had had to promise her they'd visit Snape when she was awake again to bring him the drawings she had made for him. Draco was feeling a little lethargic himself, and so he lay down for his own nap. He didn't really fall asleep; just lay in bed dozing, but he felt a little refreshed by the time Enam came to tell him Raleigh was awake again.

And awake she was. Awake and bubbly with excitement; she really had taken a liking to Snape and wanted to give him the pictures she had drawn for him. She was totally convinced he'd like them and Draco, while hiding a secret smirk, agreed with her.

Half an hour later, while Raleigh told Snape stories about the pictures in her excited, girly voice, Draco had to admit he was quite impressed with Snape's poker face. The man had barely twitched when he had seen the drawings, and he had even managed a tight sounding affirmation that yes, they were beautiful. He actually was looking at the one of Draco, Raleigh and Ani with curiosity; Draco had no idea what he was thinking.

Snape showed a reaction, though, when Raleigh looked around in his office and proclaimed the wall opposite the door, directly behind Snape's desk, the best place for her pictures.

He didn't actually say anything; he just froze for a second before slowly looking up. It was as if he wanted to say something, but didn't quite know what – or dare to upset Raleigh, which was a good thing. Raleigh had begun spinning stories about how somebody who came into the office would see her pictures immediately – Snape actually flinched, if only lightly, at the prospect – and how they'd all envy Snape for them. Snape obviously didn't quite agree, but in the end he only threw Draco an annoyed, but nevertheless resigned look that seemed to say 'I don't have a choice, do I?'

Draco smiled innocently and pulled out his wand, and that was how Severus Snape got three colourful children's pictures on his wall.


	24. Chapter Twenty-Three: Reversal Point

Draco was once again reduced to nervous pacing. Anakin didn't like that at all and kicked him in the bladder a few times, resulting in his rushing to the toilet the first time it happened, and Draco was actually trying to calm down – only it didn't work.

Potter was late.

Draco didn't know what to make out of it. Shouldn't this be of utmost importance to him? Like, more important than anything else short of all his friends getting massacred? Shouldn't the only thing stopping him from coming be his own death?

Or maybe it shouldn't. Maybe Draco only thought it should – this was about their son, after all – but in reality, it didn't.

Growling, Draco sat down in the armchair Potter had sat in two days ago, trying not think about anything too much and only resulting in thinking about it even more.

He shouldn't draw conclusions from Potter's coming fifteen minutes late. Possibly he had been detained; maybe he had had to help a kitten out of the tree it had climbed into on the way, or safe a puppy, or- maybe Draco should stop thinking and take a deep breath.

Yes, he should. Sitting up straighter to get more air into his lungs, Draco took a calming breath and paid a lot more attention to it than needed, but at least managed to stop his thoughts from running in circles. At least he had slept through the night; he couldn't imagine doing this while purposefully evading sleep, like Cara and Enam were doing in preparation of their going back to New Zealand this evening.

That Potter was late probably didn't mean anything than that he was late; generally, he should only pay attention to what Potter said and did, not what he didn't do, and especially should he not interpret anything into things that were absolutely without meaning.

And, if he was honest with himself, it was not Potter's lack of tardiness that was making him nervous, but the mere fact that Potter would come, and that this time, it was Draco's turn to talk. He hadn't made a speech in advance, knowing if he did, he'd only forget it anyway and then not get his words together at all; he had simply thought about what he wanted to say and was now trying to keep himself together enough not to appear too nervous. But it was okay to be nervous, he told himself; this was far more important than Draco's childish feelings, or Potter's. This was about Anakin's future, and the end of this talk would probably affect him not only for the next few years, but for all his life.

Suffice to say, that didn't make Draco feel any calmer, and so, when Potter knocked, he flinched just like last time.

Opening the door, Draco's eyes fell on a flushed looking Potter who was slightly out of breath. "Sorry," he gushed out immediately. "Snape tried his best to make me late."

"And he succeeded," Draco observed dryly and stepped aside, letting Potter in. This time he was prepared better. "Tea?"

Potter nodded, shrugged off his cloak and sat down into the armchair. The domestic atmosphere of the whole scene suddenly struck Draco, and he scolded himself for the giddy leap his heart took. This wasn't exactly a business meeting, but it wasn't exactly a heart to heart either.

"So." Draco sat down and took a sip of his hot chocolate – he still couldn't quite stand the thought of tea.

"So." Potter repeated and opened his mouth to continue, but Draco held up a hand to stop him. He knew if Potter said something now, Draco would be busy thinking about that and probably forget the gist of what he meant to say.

"First of all, I don't intend to keep you away from Anakin."

Potter let go a loud breath and slumped. Once again, with a big smile this time, he tried to say something, but Draco shook his head and continued.

"He should grow up with both his parents, if at all possible. We have to talk about the details another time, but there are a few important things I have to say first.

"If you lose your temper and do something rash like last time only to make my life miserable, you're out forever, Potter. I'm giving you one chance, and this is it – pull another stunt like that, and you can forget Anakin. And don't you dare to imply I'm using him to make you do what I want now; this is for Anakin, mostly. But I expect to receive the same respect I give to you back; if you don't agree with me or my decisions – well, tough luck. I certainly won't agree with you all the time either, but we cannot go back to what we've been like in school. Before that happens, I'll pull you out of his life forever."

Potter swallowed and simply nodded, shame and a trace of annoyance that was gone in a second twisting in his eyes, and Draco bit his lip, looking into the fire. When he looked back again, he knew his expression showed his conflictions, but there was nothing to be done about that for now.

"Thing is, Potter, with what happened last time, I'm not sure I can trust you with a delicate child." Potter paled, eyes widening, and he looked at Draco in shock. He probably would never have thought anyone could ever doubt his abilities to raise a child.

Draco sighed. "There's more to childrearing than bringing them to bed, change diapers and feed them, Potter. You probably won't be there for most of it, but there will be days you'll be totally exhausted because he kept you awake the whole night, and you'll be annoyed and tired and short-tempered, and… you aren't so even-tempered to begin with, Potter. I can't imagine you being violent towards a child, but I can totally see you yelling in anger and then storming away, and there is nothing more horrible for a child than his parents screaming at him and then leaving him alone.

"I'm not saying you can't learn. But at the moment, I'm not convinced you could hold your tongue, and that's worrying me." Draco sighed and took a sip of his hot chocolate before looking at Potter again, who was watching him, still pale-faced and with a pinched expression. "I can't calculate you anymore, Potter. I simply don't know how to estimate you right now; for example, I wouldn't have ever thought you would come to me and apologise like you did. And I won't – I can't – feel good giving my son to someone who I can't assess, even if it's his other parent."

Potter lowered his head. "I understand."

"No, I don't think you do, Potter. We both don't understand at the moment; that's the problem. You probably think I'm being stupid or whatever, but I can't and won't leave Anakin with you and with the situation as it is. So I suggest we try get to know each other better; I think I'm safe with saying that we both don't know much about one another, and to trust each other we need to. Without trust, this won't work."

Potter nodded, not looking so defeated anymore and instead watching him hopefully. "Are you saying we'll visit each other and have tea like-" he waved his hand, "-this?"

"Probably. Eventually." Draco agreed. "But I think letters will suffice for the beginning. I'm only in my twenty-seventh week; that's a lot of time until his birth yet."

Hesitatingly, Potter smiled; the colour was returning to his cheeks, thankfully. Draco didn't like him looking pale; it reminded him of bad things. Then Potter cleared his throat and asked, almost shyly, "Uhm, how are you?"

"Fine." Draco shrugged. "Everything is alright, if that's what you mean."

Potter nodded and smiled. "Did you… I mean, I heard sometimes people eat… strange things."

Pursing his lips, Draco informed him that " _I_ don't think it's strange. _I_ think it's delicious. But I do have taken a liking to ranch dressing that other people think is a little bit exaggerated."

"Ranch dressing?" Potter blinked. "I don't think that's strange, or is it?"

"Certainly not."

"Okay… uhm, I'm just curious, but I also heard that the- the one who carries the child can feel it. Moving, I mean."

"That's true."

"So, er, can you feel him? Anakin?"

Draco nodded. "He has a tendency to kick me in the bladder when I go on his nerves."

Delighted, Potter grinned. "And does he do other things? I mean- not like… well, I don't know. You know?"

Draco hesitated. He knew if he told Potter of that game he and Anaking played, Potter would want to play it himself, and he wasn't sure he'd feel comfortable with that. Oh, who was he kidding? He'd love Potter's hands on his stomach, and that was the problem. And also, it was selfish.

"Well, there's this game we play."

"A game?", Potter asked, confused. "I didn't know you could play games with babies."

Draco threw him a condescending look. "Well, you can. I put a hand on my stomach, and he kicks it."

"Really? And that works?"

Not dignifying that with a verbal reply, Draco only raised his eyebrows. And, of course, Potter opened his mouth, closed it again, and bit his lip. "Can… can I try it? If it's alright. If you want to, I mean."

This was it. Taking a deep breath, Draco started undoing the cords that were holding his robes together, trying not to look at Potter. He wasn't sure he wanted to see his expression and reaction to his stomach, that held their child.

Draco's breath caught. Their child. Anakin.

Before, he had never really thought about Anakin as his and Potter's child; of course he had been aware that Potter was the other father and had thought a lot about it, but he had never really thought of Ani as _their_ child.

When his stomach was revealed, he, still not looking at Potter, got up and lowered himself to his knees close to the fire for the light. Anakin was still awake, which was a good thing. He wouldn't have liked offering himself like that without reason. Without hesitating, Potter came down onto his knees in front of Draco, and when the blond glanced at him, Potter was staring at his stomach intently, but not reaching out yet.

"Like this," Draco whispered and put his hands on the sides of his stomach. He closed his eyes and waited, and, yes, there it was – Anakin's nudging, more of a kick by now. Opening his eyes again, he quickly reached to grab Potter's hands and put them under his. He felt when Anakin answered, and Potter's breath caught.

"Oh god," he whispered, and sounded suspiciously emotional. But then again, Draco had cried as well when he had first felt Anakin move.

Their son gave only a few nudges, then he seemed to grow bored, but it was more than enough. Potter didn't move his hands away; another quick glance revealed that his eyes were watery and he was blinking rapidly.

Later, Draco couldn't tell how long they had sat there; probably not too long. But it felt certainly different, kneeling in front of the fire with Potter's hands on his stomach and his own next to them. It was possible his own eyes were a little watery too, and he may have sniffled at some point, but really, that was understandable. Besides, he had the pregnancy hormones to add to the certainly emotional experience of having his son's father's hands on his stomach – the man he kind of may like a little. Or a little more.

The moment broke when something bumped against the door, and the next second, Raleigh was pounding on the door and calling his name. They both flinched, and Potter quickly, but oddly hesitatingly at the same time retreated his hands. Draco redid the knots of his robe and tried not to think about how cold the places Potter's hands had rested on before now felt.

"Uhm," Potter said and rubbed his eyes with his sleeves, standing up. Draco had more style and pulled out his handkerchief; then he waited until Potter realised that he couldn't get up alone. Well, it was physically possible – though not for much longer – right now, but it was much easier if somebody helped him. And to his credit, Potter didn't take too long to make the connection and reach for him.

"Thanks," Draco said quietly, straightened his robes and went to open the door.

"Dray!" Raleigh called out once again, sounding excited. "Mommy says to tell you we'll leave soon and she srinks your trunk!"

"Okay. Thanks, honey. Now run along; I have a guest. We'll talk later, okay?"

She nodded and bounced away. Draco was glad she was too excited to try get out of him who it was or even try to see them; he didn't think he could deal with an excited Raleigh, an emotional Potter and Cara, who'd soon come over, at the same time while feeling a little delicate himself.

When he turned around again, Potter was trying to look collected but probably couldn't – or wouldn't – help the still watery, but beaming smile that broke out the second Draco faced him again. "Thank you," he said, and there was as much emotion in his voice as was in his face. Draco almost became teary-eyed again, but he thought that was enough for now and swallowed the lump in his throat. Still, he couldn't really speak, and only nodded.

For a while, they stood there, Draco by the door, Potter by the fire, Potter looking at Draco, Draco glancing at him and away again, until Potter cleared his throat and spoke in his normal voice again. "You're leaving?"

"Today." Draco nodded.

"Where to?"

He glanced up and looked at Potter searchingly. "New Zealand."

Potter nodded, returning his look for a second before breaking the eye contact and reaching for his cloak. "I'll go, then. I'll write soon, okay?"

"Okay." Draco watched while Potter put on his cloak and then walked to the door – to Draco – watching him with a strange expression. When he had reached him, he paused, hesitating, and suddenly he didn't quite pull Draco into his arms, but embraced him nonetheless. As quickly as it started, the hug ended, and before Draco could even process what had happened Potter had left. When he had caught his breath again, Draco turned around to look at the closed door, stunned.


	25. Chapter Twenty-Four: Written Conversations

Draco was awake and watching the sun rise. Raleigh had long been brought to bed, and a few hours earlier Enam and Cara had followed her after having welcomed the new year together with him. Draco had intended to join them soon (in his own bed, of course), but instead had found himself once again reading the letter Potter – Harry, now – had sent only the day before. The sky had already been growing lighter, and so he had gone outside to watch the first dawn of the new year that'd bring many changes, and to think.

 _Dear Draco_ , the letter read. _(If I am allowed to call you that?)_

 _How are you? I am great, actually. I don't really know what to talk about – what you'd be interested in – so I'll just… I don't know, write how my day was or something._

 _Or actually, I'll tell you how my yesterday was, though you were there for the most important part._

 _I'm not sure I should talk about something so personal yet, but I also don't want to pretend this meant not as much to me as it did. But you don't have to mention it yourself if you don't want to._

 _Right. So, I knew you were pregnant alright, and I really had enough time to think about it and get used to the thought, so when I went to Hogwarts to see you, I thought I was prepared for what I'd see._

 _Well, I wasn't. You… well, you have to know that I had been watching you and the little girl for a while, and, well… I saw that you were very… I don't quite know how to say it; it was just visible that you love her very much – and that she loves you – and I could easily see you playing like that with our child. I must admit, before that I had been a little worried, but after seeing this, I wasn't anymore. Now I'm not even really sure if that was just because, well, I apparently have a harder time letting the past rest than I thought. You aren't the person you used to be anymore; haven't been in a long while, actually, way longer than I was willing to acknowledge, and for that I'm sorry._

 _Well, seeing you changed a lot for me, especially with that girl, and the day after that actually **seeing** you; pregnant, I mean. In your winter cloak it was, while visible, not that obvious._

 _And then, yesterday, not only seeing you and talking to you, but to actually feel… him. Anakin. (That's a nice name, by the way.) Believe me or not, when I got home, the first thing I did was cry (again)._

 _I can't really put to words how much, so just know it meant a lot to me. I really, really thank you for allowing me this; it must have been not easy for you, so I'm even more grateful._

 _So. I am now sitting here writing this letter, and the mere memory makes me sentimental. You may think I'm being stupid, but… I guess before, I couldn't quite grasp that it was really happening, that I (we) am really going to be a father, and I used to feel a little overwhelmed before, but now I think it will be worth it._

 _By the way, I think you're right; I really have no idea what to expect, and I may be not prepared for the real thing no matter how many books I read (I'm reading childrearing books, you know?), but I'm willing to work on it, to learn. I **want** to learn._

 _So… I wonder when this letter will reach you; is it New Year for you already? If so, I wish you a happy New Year, may your wishes come true. Greet your friends from me if you want to._

 _Harry_

That Potter's written language sounded as nervous as his spoken language was very endearing.

Draco snorted at the thought. As if Potter needed to be any more dear to him than he already was.

With one last glance at the sky, Draco gave a tired yawn and finally got up to go to bed.

A few hours later that day, he was sitting at the desk in his room, dark circles under his eyes, sipping hot chocolate and pondering how to answer. He decided to start easy.

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Happy New Year to you too. It's the first day of January now, I got your letter yesterday; letters usually take about two to three days to arrive._

 _I'm fine, just tired. Anakin isn't, one of the reasons I am._

 _The little girl you saw (and talked to) is Raleigh Gabriel, adopted daughter (war orphan) of Enam and Cara Gabriel. She is three years old and pure sugar, but she can also be rather annoying at times. Enam is the healer I chose for us (Anakin and me); when those searchings became too much (and the first one was too much already, mind you, much less the third) I asked him if he and his family wanted to come with me, and they did. They're my family._

 _It's good to see you agree with me on that point; I thought you were going to be angry and offended._

 _There may be several occasions in the future when I will be blunt and direct with you; I will be nothing else where Anakin is concerned, and I ask you to do the same. (Though really, I've never had any troubles expressing myself clearly, as I'm sure you remember.)_

 _We're going to the beach now. Raleigh wants to drown her sorrow that there is no snow here in sand, sun and sea, which works rather well, I must admit._

 _They send their greetings to you._

 _Draco_

 _~_

 _Dear Draco,_

 _I'd really love to be at the beach now… instead I'm stuck in the snow, having snowball fights with the Weasleys and going ice-skating. Not that I don't enjoy that, but well, you know how it is. In winter you want it to be summer, and in summer you want it to be winter._

 _I wanted to ask if you'd be alright if I told them about Anakin; so far I only talked to Hermione and a little to Ron about him (or rather, this situation). I doubt they don't know about it already, with all those articles in the Prophet (don't they have more pressing matters to write about?), but I'd like to tell them; they're kind of my family, too._

 _In your letter you wrote something that puzzled me; what did you mean with searchings? What happened? I thought you had left England to get away from me (and please, please don't think now that I believe I'm so important and prominent that you have to change the continent to get rid of me)._

 _What do you think; are we ready to talk about the details you mentioned yet? I'm really not sure, but maybe we should get the formalities straight first._

 _Thank you and greetings to your family._

 _Harry_

 _~_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Today Anakin greeted the day (or me?) with a few especially hard kicks, and this time they were actually visible (maybe they were before already, but I didn't explicitly notice). Enam says he's right on time with his growth, it's really good to have him here. I think I would have freaked a thousand times already without his support._

 _What do you mean with "What do you mean with searchings"? Have you forgotten already? The aurors you sent into the Manor (in the middle of the night, might I add) three times in the course of two weeks after I told you that I am pregnant. That was really a low blow._

 _Details… well, we can talk about the main point; I want Anakin to grow up in England, if so possible (id est, if you don't flip again and give "anonymous" tips to the aurors and it's not only me and my house-elves they terrify in the middle of the freaking night, but my son, we'll leave. As much as I love England and want him to grow up here as well; this is something I can not and will not make him bear. My father… when I was young, we were searched a few times as well, and it was always a terrifying experience to have unknown dark-clad figures bursting into your bedroom and keeping you captured until they finished searching your wardrobe and stuffed animals.)_

 _I'll be off then; we'll cook together now. Or rather, Cara and Enam will try to while Raleigh and I will sneak food away from them._

 _Have a nice day,_

 _Draco_

 _~_

 _Dear Draco,_

 _I have no idea what you are talking about. I never, ever sent aurors into your house; neither by anonymous tips nor anything else. I didn't even know it really happened; I thought the Prophet was just making that up or exaggerating again._

 _Please believe me I had nothing to do with this, and trust me, I'll find out._

 _I would never, ever do something like that to you, no matter how angry I was at you. You remember that during school, I never tried to get you in trouble via teachers, did I? If I was angry at you, I always attempted to manage that on my own (and often failed or backfired)._

 _This really makes me angry. Whoever that was, they'll have to answer some questions._

 _Draco, I know what you did for us during the war, and the sacrifices you made, and I am every grateful for your help; without you, I am sure it would have taken a lot longer to defeat Voldemort, and a lot more people would have died. This might sound shallow or egoistical in the face of what happened with your parents, and I'm sure you have reconsidered your actions many times since then; believe me; I can relate. You didn't deserve to lose them, no matter what anyone thinks about them personally; you didn't deserve their deaths. I know what it's like to lose your parents; it's hard to compare since I never really knew mine, but still._

 _I'll reply properly later; I have a few questions to ask. If I overstepped my boundaries, forgive me. I meant to say that for a while now; I know it changes nothing. I just wanted you to know what I really thought._

 _Harry_

 _~_

 _Draco,_

 _I found out what happened, and it's partly my fault. I feel so bad._

 _You see, after our meeting, I was a bit agitated, and I talked to Ron and Hermione a lot. We were trying to figure out what you have tried to achieve with a lie like that (I know, I feel bad, sorry…). And, you see, we were staying at the Burrow (the Weasley's home) then, and it's small and privacy is nearly impossible, so Ginny heard us taking about you. Of course she asked, but we didn't tell her anything, and so she figured out we had found out that you were up to something evil, and mentioned it to Alicia (former Quidditch team mate and now auror trainee), who mentioned it to her friends who also happen to be her colleagues, and one thing came to the other._

 _Well._

 _Kingsley (you remember Kingsley Shacklebolt, do you?) found out that the aurors weren't exactly acting by order, but the Head Auror knew about the searchings and didn't say anything. He's on "holidays" now and probably will be encouraged to quit; Kingsley is furious. You know, after the article in the Prophet he asked the aurors, but they said they merely questioned you on a few things and Skeeter was mixing exaggeration and imagination again. They're on probation now, and likely to get fired. We don't need any racism in the Ministry, Kingsley said, no matter if it's against muggleborns or purebloods._

 _I told them exactly what I think of their actions; Hermione says you could have miscarried with enough stress at that stage!_

 _So I kind of lost my temper. There may be something in the papers tomorrow; I'm sorry. At least everything is cleared now. I hope you are not too angry._

 _Harry_

 _~_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I don't know what to say._

 _Foremost, I owe you an apology: I should have realised that those conceited searchings weren't your style; I'm sorry._

 _This changes everything. I based most of my judgement of your qualities as a father on the assumption you were the one who sent those aurors; I was wrong. Give me a little time to rethink._

 _Thank you. For bringing light into this, I mean. For making an effort to find out the truth for me. I mean it: thank you._

 _I need to think about this now. I'll get back to you._

 _I hope you are well,_

 _Draco_

 _(P.S. Of course you can talk to your Weasleys. Just don't mention anything private; where I live, my family, and stuff like that.)_

 _~_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Cara says I'm thinking too much. She also thinks I'm being stupid. She says I should just invite you over and talk to you in person; not that I know what about so far, but well._

 _So, hereby I invite you over for January the 22nd (I'll be exactly seven months along then, by the way); you can stay a few days, if you want to. If you want to come, please tell me so quick, and also how long you would like to stay. You will have to take a portkey to the main Ministry of New Zealand in Auckland, from there one of us (or all of us) will pick you up. Remember, we have summer here. Raleigh tells you to bring snow. I tell you to bring swimming clothes. Also remember we are twelve hours quicker than England; if you want to arrive Friday morning, you'll have to leave Thursday evening. We have anti-jetlag-potion here. If you want to come, but can't so soon, tell me which date would suit you better._

 _Draco_


	26. Chapter Twenty-Five: Family Affair

_30 weeks, 5 days – seven months_

 _I'd love to come! I'll be there in Auckland's Ministry on January the 22nd at around nine o'clock in the morning. Thank you!_

 _Harry_

Once again, Draco stared at the hastily scrawled note. It looked like Potter had only taken the time to quickly scribble something down and then had run to- well, to pack, maybe, or tell his friends, or go to the toilet, or something. It was rather cute, and Draco really had to stop thinking about everything Potter did as cute.

And he had to go and talk to Enam and Cara. Putting the note to the other letters in the little wooden box he had chosen for Harry's letters, Draco went to do just that.

*

The morning of January the 22nd, Draco almost staggered into the kitchen where his family was already waiting for him. Immediately, the chatter died down, and blearily he wondered if he really looked as horrible as he felt. He hadn't quite dared to look into the mirror that morning; he had had a horrible night because for some reason, Anakin would wake him up whenever he was just about to doze off, and after the fifth time, sleep had eluded Draco and he had lain awake for hours.

"You look horrible," Cara commented dryly, confirming his suspicions.

Draco only uttered an unintelligible reply and sat down heavily in his chair. Only manners kept him from dropping his head straight onto the table; instead, he settled for dropping his chin on his hands and closed his eyes.

Enam put an arm on his shoulder in comfort. "Bad night?" It was obvious; still Draco nodded.

"Couldn't sleep. He kept me awake for hours."

"Poor thing," was Cara's sympathetic reply. "Want a wake-up potion? But you aren't allowed to take them, are you?"

Draco shook his head, eyes still closed, and felt more than saw Enam besides him do the same. "You better stay here, Draco."

"What?" Draco opened his eyes to look at Enam. "Why?" He didn't want to stay here. He couldn't stay here. He was the one who had invited Harry; he couldn't really let him be picked up by strangers, could he?

"You are obviously exhausted. You won't do anyone a favour if you come; not you, not Anakin, and least of all Potter who'll probably feel bad for coming. What do you imagine he will think if he sees you almost dropping out of your shoes?"

Cara nodded. "We are perfectly capable of picking him up alone. We'll recognise him, and we can carry a sign with his name on it so he can recognise us as well. Besides, it gives up some time to talk alone with him." She grinned.

Draco groaned and, manners finally failing, let his head drop into his arms. "No threatening with my kitchen knifes, please."

"Will do. Now, off to bed. Do you want me to carry you?"

Shaking his head, Draco waved Enam's offer away. "I can barely carry him, so I doubt you could carry me _and_ him. But thanks."

"Don't worry, we'll be nice."

Draco smiled weakly, kissed Raleigh on the forehead and went back to bed.

A soft touch on his forehead woke him up. Well, he wasn't really awake from the second he felt someone touch him; rather, he slowly came aware of someone softly caressing his cheeks, pushing the hair out of his face and brushing gentle fingers over his face. He sighed contently, and immediately, the hand flinched away. That woke him up for real, and he blinked slowly.

Someone was standing by his bed; a dark shade against the light of the windows. Draco couldn't remember when he had pulled the curtains open; he probably hadn't and that somebody else had. Blinking to get used to the light, Draco yawned and uncurled his legs. Still not really awake, he pushed himself up on his elbow and blinked.

"Harry?"

Slowly, Harry's face became detailed and he saw the smile on his face.

"Jup. Morning."

Draco returned the smile hesitantly and struggled to sit up properly. Potter immediately reacted and reached to grab his shoulders to help him up. "Uoh," Draco said and rubbed his eyes. He was still tired, but it was a little better.

Suddenly, he paused. His hands dropped down into his lap, and he turned to look at Harry with wide eyes.

"Harry? You're here?"

"Uhm. Yes?"

"Oh! I didn't mean to sleep for so long. How was the trip?"

"No problem, it's better you sleep if you are tired. It was alright. Your family is nice; Raleigh is a very cute girl."

Draco grinned and edged towards the end of the bed near Potter. "See? I told you she is adorable. Why did they send you up instead of waking me?"

Harry shrugged and lowered his gaze. "Uhm, no idea."

"You mean Cara was winking and grinning and practically shoved you upstairs," Draco deduced and raised one eyebrow.

"Er, yes. Something like that." Harry shifted.

"Of course." Draco rolled his eyes. "Now excuse me, your son is lying on my bladder."

He heard how Harry's breath caught and a glance to him told him he was blushing; Draco turned away and made his way towards the bath, a grin tugging on the corners of his mouth. Apparently, Harry wasn't used to someone saying that yet. Draco understood that; he himself had taken a while as well to grasp it. But it would be fun making Harry blush by simply mentioning the words "your son".

He went about his business in the bathroom and then walked back into his bedroom, trying not to be too aware of his lack of clothing – he was only wearing a pair of low-sitting shorts and a very wide shirt that was not wide enough to cover his whole stomach and tended to slide up in his sleep.

Well, it couldn't be helped.

Harry had put his backpack on his desk when Draco came back – or he had done it before Draco had woken up and he just hadn't noticed it. Anyway, he had stepped away from Draco's bed and was standing by the table, searching for something in his backpack. When he noticed Draco, he looked up, opened his mouth, closed it again, shifted and said "I'll go downstairs while you get dressed, okay?"

Draco nodded, and Harry took his backpack and left, not without glancing back at him before closing the door.

Deep in thoughts, Draco pulled out some robes out of his cupboard. It was very strange, yet somehow also nice how relaxed the atmosphere between them was. He had expected awkwardness and nervousness, maybe even annoyance when the other did something that got on the other's nerves. Sure, they had merely spent five minutes with each other, if at all, and Draco didn't expect it to stay like that. He was totally convinced that one way or the other in the course of this two days of Harry staying, they'd bug each other; it was only natural. They'd have to avoid certain topics, and maybe that wasn't a good idea; maybe they should resolve their differences and problems first. But Draco was of the opinion that they'd fare better if they at first knew what the other was really about; he had found out a lot about Harry just with their short exchange of letters, and maybe Harry had found out a little about him too.

And anyways, he intended to not only find out more about Harry, his character and motives, but also enjoy the time he spent here. Sure, it was only because of Anakin, but that didn't change the fact that Harry was here, and he would make use of the opportunity to catch Potter unguarded, without his friends to be appalled at him being nice to Draco.


	27. Chapter Twenty-Six: Sun, Sea…

Harry was having fun; that much was obvious. He was sitting with Raleigh and building a sandcastle; Raleigh was earnestly lecturing him on the techniques and throwing in commands on when he should use what kind of magic where. Harry indulged her completely, but Draco had had to work up the ability to not be such a push-over in the face of her cuteness too, so it was only to be expected. She'd be a right brat soon if they let Harry spoil her completely.

Draco was sitting in the shadows of a parasol, a book, a bottle of cool pineapple juice, an even-temperature charmed box of fruits, another one with small sausages, and a third one with ranch dressing, and a bottle of sunscreen lying next to him. So far, he had ignored the book, but was enjoying the cooled oranges dipped into ranch dressing. A few steps to his right Cara was lying and trying to tan some more, something both Enam and Draco claimed was impossible by now, and Enam was out swimming or diving; probably both.

It was nearing evening now; they had spent the morning – or rather, late morning – in the kitchen, Draco eating breakfast, Harry trying to get used to the different time zone (the potion had made him a little dizzy at first), and Raleigh trying to wrap Harry around her little finger, something she was an expert at. Suffice to say, it had worked perfectly. During lunch, after Cara had asked a few prodding questions, Harry had started to tell stories about little Draco – his favourite one was how Draco had screamed like a girl (he hadn't, really, but Harry insisted he had) when they had been in the Forbidden Forest as detention in first year. Draco had countered that _anyone_ with at least a little brain left would have fled the scene after seeing someone doing- what the thing had been doing. In consideration of Raleigh, he hadn't elaborated, but that had only made Cara curious and when Raleigh had been brought to bed for her nap, she had asked for the whole story. She was rather horrified after hearing the truth (so was Draco; he had heard the rumours, but he barely believed a third of the crap he heard about Potter, and apparently, the more outrageous stuff tended to have been true).

After Raleigh had woken up again, they had decided to spend the rest of the day until dinner at the beach; Harry had confessed he had never been at the sea for holidays before, and generally only twice. Draco had been rather shocked; in his opinion, a vacation without at least seeing the beach once didn't count as vacation. The ocean had always been a place of calm, lightness and passion for him; the sea never let anyone guide her; she did what she wanted and when she wanted it. She had always symbolised vacation, a time to let everything else go and just enjoy himself for him. He couldn't imagine raising Anakin without introducing him to the ocean at least once a year.

So they spent the day at the beach. Draco had dozed for a while, still feeling a little tired from his troubled night, and Raleigh had immediately claimed Harry. She was rather taken with him; either because he was new, or because he was Anakin's father. If asked, Draco wouldn't admit it, but he had been watching them more or less obviously all the time; he supposed Harry had noticed, but he had neither said anything nor glanced back at him.

"Come, Draco, let's take a dip into the sea," Cara's voice sounded from besides him, and Draco almost flinched. He hadn't noticed her stirring.

"Uhm," he said, not looking at her.

"Oh, come on! You aren't so shy usually; what's going on?"

Draco refused to answer, knowing she'd figure it out herself. And of course, she didn't disappoint him.

"Oh. Oh! Oh, Draco. He won't say anything. It's _his_ child you're carrying; there is no need to be shy."

"I'm fat," Draco replied, silently. It had been okay when he had only revealed his stomach that time at Hogwarts, and this morning he had been too tired to really care, but now, in full daylight?

"You are not fat, Draco, you are pregnant."

"That's my stomach. My legs are fat." He couldn't see them properly, but he felt it; they were swollen and heavy, especially at the end of the day, and lately, he had avoided looking into the mirror.

She huffed. "Either you put off that robe of yours and come with us for a little swim, or I'll call Harry and tell him you think you're fat."

Draco's head whipped around to stare at her. "You wouldn't!" It was far too early for that. Harry would be uncomfortable, Draco would be uncomfortable, they'd both be embarrassed – no, scratch that, they'd be mortified – and Harry would feel forced to say something nice. It'd be terrible.

Cara only raised one eyebrow and looked at him. Draco felt the urge to moan desperately, but he reigned himself in. Instead, he threw her a dark look, unbuttoned his robe – there weren't many buttons; it was only a summer robe for after baths or the beach. Then he stood, with the help of Cara, of course, and waddled towards the ocean, scowling because he was unable to sweep past her with an impressive, Snape-like billow of his robes. Behind him, Cara announced to Raleigh and Harry that they'd go into the water, and Raleigh squealed and ran past Draco only to stop short a few millimetres in front of the water line of the last wave. She always did that. After that, it'd take her a long time until she was inside to her ankles, and from then on she'd gradually take more steps, some back, and so forth. She was very prissy with how wet she got, and how quickly.

Draco just walked into the water until it lapped at his stomach; then he'd wait a little, getting used to the temperature – though he was better off because he wasn't all heated up from the sun – before wading deeper. In all honesty, he loved swimming; not that he could really swim with his stomach, but the water took away all weight, and he could just float around comfortably, for once not feeling the heaviness of his stomach. Sure, he loved Anakin and saw him as a gift, but that didn't change the fact that his immobility was really starting to get on his nerves.

So he just floated around for a while – not lying on his back; he was kind of kneeling in the water, slowly kicking his legs and using his arms to keep balanced. The waves weren't too strong here; it was a protected bay, which was a good thing. He liked waves, but they were decidedly a bad thing for someone in his position. He listened to Raleigh squeal and squeak in the distance and talk to her mother, who was always a few steps deeper into the water than she was, and slowly started to enjoy himself.

Harry chose this moment to paddle closer to him; he looked like he was a bit afraid to get into too deep water and was always glancing back at the shore.

"There is nothing here," Draco assured him. "We had Cookie put up wards. They keep anything away here in the ocean, and at the house."

"What are you talking about?", Harry asked, looking around worried.

"Jellyfishes. Fishes. Little sharks. Mosquitoes. Really anything that could bother us."

"But isn't that kind of… bad? I mean they live here."

"No they don't. There aren't any coral reefs here; they only come to the beaches in search for food. And it's not like we banished them from the ocean; only this little part of it. The wards are down where Enam is diving, and you see he actually isn't too far from us."

"True. Useful, those wards."

"Yes."

Draco floated around in silence for a while, while Harry tried to relax, but he was too tense. Whenever a wave came that was a little bigger, he'd paddle and gasp for air as if he were drowning. "Relax. It's only water."

"I can't help it; it's so big. It makes me nervous."

"The water carries you; as long as you breathe, you can't sink. Look at me. I'm certainly heavier than you at the moment, and all I need to do is paddle a little and move my arms."

Harry threw him a look. "You're using a charm."

"We're all charmed to prevent us from drowning. It's part of the wards." Draco rolled his eyes.

"Oh."

"Yeah. Now do as I told you."

Harry did, and of course it worked. "Hmm, that's nice…"

"Yes."

They floated around in silence for a while, listening how Enam joined Cara and Raleigh, who still wasn't farther into the water than her knees.

"Does she always take so long?"

"Yeah. She's a whimp, but she's a child, so it's okay. It's practical, really; you can get into the water, and by the time she is in, you have enjoyed it enough to take care of her. She always needs a hand or an arm to feel comfortable. And when she has had enough after a while, you have had enough yourself, and you can get out again."

Harry was silent. "She is a lovely girl."

"She is. Now shut up, I'm floating here."

"Sorry."

For the rest of the time Raleigh took to get into the water they floated without speaking a word. When she was fully inside, she naturally called for Draco – she always did; she was so proud of being fully in the water every single time – and they swam back to praise her.

After Raleigh had had enough of the water, they all headed out, and Draco quickly went back to his robe to cover himself again, but not so quickly it'd raise suspicion. Well, Cara noticed, of course; but she'd keep silent. He didn't believe she would really have called Harry earlier, but if he hadn't believed her, she would have done it just to prove her point. She was a little bossy at times.

Harry gentlemanly carried Draco's things, and Draco offered him the choice of dessert as a reward. He chose "something with strawberries", and, satisfied, Draco brought the wish to Kibby. Then they all made their ways to their bathrooms – the Gabriel's shared one at their floor, Draco had an own, and Harry shared his with the second guest room that wasn't occupied, thus had it for himself as well. Afterwards, they had a nice dinner, and when Draco came back from bringing Raleigh to bed, he had the opportunity to watch Harry Potter being floored by Enam Gabriel in a game of chess. Actually, it was rather boring, because Harry wasn't too skilled. Enam whined that Draco was a better opponent, and Harry gladly left the field for Draco. He went to talk to Cara, and soon they were chattering about something or the other, sometimes glancing at Draco; he'd rather not know what they were talking about.

This was a really nice day, Draco decided when he went upstairs, happy but tired, Harry in his tracks.

"Uhm, Draco?"

"Yes?" He turned around in his door to look at Harry, who was fidgeting just a little bit.

"I was wondering if I could, erm… oh, forget it."

"No, what is it?"

"No, no, forget it, it was presumptuous." Harry wasn't looking at him.

"I am amazed you know such big words." Draco rolled his eyes. "Spill, Harry. If it really was, I will pretend this conversation never happened."

"Uhm, I wondered if I could… you know… see? Is Anakin awake?"

"Oh. Well, I'm not sure. We can test it, though. Come."

Draco turned around and walked into his room, trying not to feel too giddy. "Could you light the fire, please? I'm trying to use as little magic as possible."

"Sure. Heatless, right?"

"Naturally." Glad that he was once again wearing his special robes – not the same ones, of course; he had told Cookie to change a few of his other robes until they were like the one for pregnant people – he untied the knots and knelt in front of the fire. Harry quickly sat down next to him, staring eagerly at his stomach, which, of course, made Draco feel even more self-conscious.

He put his hands on his stomach, but Anakin didn't move. For a while, he let them rest there, waiting if Anakin was just not feeling like playing, or maybe waking up, but he was probably fast asleep.

Draco shook his head. "He's asleep."

"Oh." Harry sounded disappointed for a second before glancing at him again. "Uhm, could I still touch? If you are okay with it, of course, I would just like to… you know."

"Uhm, sure," Draco allowed, trying not to blush. He would have never thought Harry would want to touch his stomach without a response from Anakin.

Slowly, Harry reached until his fingertips were touching Draco's stomach; then, he let them wander – only the fingertips – over the stretched skin for a while. Draco felt goose bumps breaking out on his arms; somehow, it was a totally different thing to have someone touch his stomach without a real intention, like to feel Anakin or to check whether everything was alright. And it was also totally different because it was Harry.

Very carefully, as if afraid to break him, Harry let his hands fully rest on his stomach; they just lay there, warm and gentle. Sometimes, he'd move them a little, but mostly they just lay there, until Harry lowered his head towards them. Pausing halfway, he looked up at Draco. "Can I?"

Feeling a little lightheaded, Draco nodded, and Harry leant forwards, tilting his head sideways at the last second, and put his ear on Draco's stomach. Almost in the same movement, he slowly slipped his hands forwards until he was hugging Draco as far as possible in their position.

Draco's breath caught. He didn't know why, but this was just so… touching, somehow. It was different, and nice, and a little heartbreaking, but in the good way.

Once again, he lost track of time; they were just sitting there in front of the heatless fire, Harry's arms around Draco's waist, and somewhere along the way, Draco had dared to put a hand on Harry's head.

When Harry moved again, Draco let his hand slip away, but still the moment didn't break. Harry turned his head, kissed Draco's stomach softly, and moved away again, neither looking at Draco nor avoiding his eyes. He was kneeling in front of him and looking at his stomach almost melancholic for a second before slowly raising. Reaching for Draco's hand, Harry helped him up, and then, still in that slow tempo, as if someone had cast a charm to slow the world down, Harry leant forwards, kissed Draco on the forehead just as softly as on his stomach, smiled at him, turned around and left, wishing him a good night.

The door closed softly behind him, and Draco had to pinch himself to emerge from that strange trance he seemed to have fallen into. He almost wondered if what had just happened was real or a dream, but his open robe was evident enough, as well as his pounding heart.


	28. Chapter Twenty-Seven: …Sand and Sweethearts

The next morning, Harry didn't act as if something strange had happened, but he also didn't act as if nothing had happened. It was rather confusing to Draco, and he found himself blushing the first time he caught Harry's eyes during breakfast. Harry just smiled at him and turned back to his muesli.

If Enam and Cara noticed anything, they kept quiet.

They hadn't planned anything special for this day; maybe they'd cook later, and they'd certainly go to the beach again. Raleigh was playing with snow at the moment; Draco had been delighted when he found that Harry had actually brought her some. Not much, but still, it was very cute and thoughtful. Enam took some photos, and one thing led to the other, and soon he was sitting with Harry at the table, showing photos he or Cara or Draco had made of Raleigh or themselves. Draco was trying not to pay too much attention – and failing, of course – when he noticed that Enam took especial care to show Harry pictures of Draco in various stages of his pregnancy; there was even one photo of him in his boxers, sleep-mussed and unpregnant-looking and holding Raleigh in his arms, who had fallen asleep in his bed. It was a very good shot; Cara had made it by accident. She had been walking up the stairs to take a photo of Draco and Raleigh sleeping, and she had been so surprised by Draco meeting her halfway up the stairs that she had acted by instinct, pulled up her camera and taken a photo. He had seen the picture himself and had to say, he and Raleigh could almost pass for siblings there; he had been just walking by a window, and the light hadn't been too good because it had been raining, shining pale on their light skin and hair, making it seem like it was glowing. Somehow, it had also brought out Draco's eyes; they seemed like liquid silver and were strangely piercing, which was only enhanced by the glinting crystal he was wearing around his neck, his pass of natal and prenatal care. He couldn't recall having looked at her with that intense expression; but then again, he hadn't been too awake either. Cara and Enam both loved the photo.

Harry apparently did too, because he stared at it for a long time before asking for a copy in a hushed tone.

At that point, Draco turned back to his book; hiding his red face was more important than trying to listen to what they were saying in his opinion.

That was why he was caught by surprise when Harry suddenly stood in front of him, looking questioningly. "What?", he asked, confused, and glanced at Enam, who was holding the camera.

"Enam wants to make a photo of us," Harry explained and actually blushed. Draco looked at Enam, who grinned unabashedly, felt his own cheeks warming and scowled.

"Well, there is enough room on this sofa for both of us, isn't there?", he answered and patted the empty space next to him. Harry sat down, and they both looked at Enam expectantly, looking and feeling awkward.

Enam rolled his eyes. "Could you look a little more uncomfortable and unnatural? Wait, scratch that, I think that's physically impossible. Lean back. Not so stiffly, yeah, that's better. Now, Harry, put an arm around Draco. Stop glaring at me, Dray, you know it won't work. And now try to relax. I'll wait 'til you do; you can sit there all day, if you want to."

Draco scowled and blushed some more before huffing exaggeratingly. He turned his body a little so he was leaning into Harry, sank a little lower and adjusted Harry's arm.

"That's perfect! No, keep your hands on Harry's arm, that was nice, Draco. Good." Enam raised the camera and made a photo, and another one, and another one, until both Harry and Draco were beet red. Only then he lowered the camera again, grinned and winked. "Thank you. Cara will love this."

"I'll love what?", Cara asked and entered the room. She paused when she saw Harry and Draco sitting together on the sofa and her husband with the camera in his hands.

"The photo I just made."

"Oho! Show me!"

Enam grinned and winked at them. "We'll be developing the photos." Both left quickly, and Draco snorted, turning his head away from Harry.

"Sorry. They're a little strange at times."

"I think they're nice," Harry said, softly. And then he added so quietly Draco almost didn't catch it, "I think this is nice."

Draco was positive his face was so red it could blend in with the Gryffindor school uniform now, but he managed a small nod.

Neither of them showed any notion to move away, and so they stayed like that. After a while, Draco had to move; he couldn't stay in one position too long with his stomach pressing on his bladder. Harry took that as a sign for Draco feeling uncomfortable and started to move away, but Draco quickly stopped him. "No! Your son is just lying on my bladder again."

"Oh. Do you have to go?"

"No." Well actually he did – there was scarcely a time nowadays when he didn't have to go – but it could wait a little.

Harry waited until Draco had shifted into a more comfortable position. "Is he awake?"

"Maybe, but he's not kicking."

"Does it hurt? When he kicks you, I mean?"

"It's uncomfortable if he kicks the same place over and over again, but not real pain. Mostly, I like it. It's like… it's nice feeling him, you know."

"Yeah."

Draco had a feeling Harry really did know. "Do you want me to tell you when he's kicking again? So you can feel it?"

"I'd like that." Harry's voice was soft again, like it had been the previous evening, and despite himself, Draco blushed.

They sat in silence again – they were good at silences, Draco had noticed, and it wasn't the bad kind of silence – until Harry shifted and let go of him. Draco lowered his gaze, feeling strangely cold and almost hating that.

"Can I…?"

"What?"

Instead of answering, Harry edged away from him, but before Draco had the chance to feel hurt, he was already lying down, resting his head on Draco's knees. "Is this alright?"

"Yes." Draco swallowed. "Do you want a pillow? My knees can't be too comfortable."

Harry shook his head and turned on his side, bumping his nose into Draco's stomach. "No. This is nice. Thank you."

"Stop being so grateful all the time. I'm not doing you any favours or something."

Harry took a deep breath. "Not really, maybe. But I'm still grateful. You don't have to do this."

"No. But neither do you."

"What? I'm not doing anything, just using your knees as a pillow."

"Being there, I mean. Caring."

Harry was silent for a while, before he rubbed his nose into Draco's stomach again in an Eskimo kiss. "I didn't even think about it that way. I just… do. It wasn't even a conscious decision, and it's not like I could stop if you – or anyone else – wanted me to."

"That's what I am grateful for." Draco's voice was almost a whisper, but he was sure Harry had understood him. In more ways than one.

They stopped talking. Harry just lay there, not doing anything; somewhere to the left, Raleigh was singing a song while making tiny snowmen, and Draco was trying not to think too much, to just enjoy. After a while, he picked up his book again and went back to reading; Harry had maybe fallen asleep, but at least had stopped moving. At some point, Cara came back, smiled at them and took another photo, but Draco ignored her.

He was ignoring anything, really, but this. The atmosphere was so familiar and homely; as if they had been doing this a countless times. Draco wasn't sure it was a good thing for their development or a bad that they hadn't and still were doing this; he only knew it felt good. He didn't really want to think about it yet, because he knew – if he did, it would destroy this.

The only problem was, reality was trying to pull him back into the world of thinking; in fact, it was lying on his bladder. Or rather, Anakin was, and he wouldn't be able to ignore the urge for much longer.

With a resigned sigh, Draco put the book away again – he hadn't really been reading anyway – and nudged Harry's shoulder. The only reaction he got was a sigh. He nudged again with a little more insistence, and Harry grumbled and rubbed his nose again into Draco's stomach.

Draco sighed and shook Harry's shoulder. "Harry, get up. I have to go to the loo."

Harry sighed again, louder this time, but turned his head and blinked sleepily up at Draco. For some reason, his hair looked even more mussed than usually, even though Draco was almost sure he had barely touched it, and neither had Harry.

"What?", Harry asked, voice a little hoarse. He had really been sleeping.

"I said I need to get up. I have to use the toilet."

"Oh. Sorry." Harry blushed and quickly sat up, rubbing his eyes and hair, and yawned. "I fell asleep."

"Talk later. Toilet now." Quickly, Draco rose and waddled to the toilet. He had really waited until the last second.

When he came back, Harry was sitting on the sofa, trying to look casual and not nervous, and failing. He didn't exactly look tense or as if he were about to faint any second, but he certainly didn't look casual or relaxed either. "Uhm," he said as Draco sat down next to him again. Giving him a chance to gather his courage, Draco smiled, looked around and asked, "Where is Raleigh?"

"Oh. I don't know. She just got up and left."

"Hm, okay… She didn't say anything?"

"Nope." Harry shook his head and cleared his throat.

"Well then. You wanted to say something?"

Biting his lower lip, Harry nodded and glanced at the ceiling. "I… well, I'm not really sorry for kind of falling asleep on you; I liked that, and I think you did too, or rather you didn't mind, but maybe it shouldn't happened again? I mean it's not like I wouldn't want to, but we can't even really talk to each other about certain subjects, so maybe it's not a good idea. I mean."

"Maybe," Draco agreed thoughtfully. "But on the other hand, why shouldn't we if we want to? It won't hurt, will it, and it's not like we're pretending we're suddenly best friends or… something else. Besides, I think it will actually be good for us; it will strengthen our relationship, if nothing else, and our trust, and make us more comfortable around each other."

"Hm." Harry tilted his head and thought about that. Then he blushed. "True. Besides, I… really like it."

"Me too." Draco rubbed his nose. He would have shifted if he were physically able to, but it would involve too much effort. He was rather heavy at the moment, after all.

"So…"

Draco looked at Harry when the black haired man didn't continue, and found him blushing and looking down, rubbing the back of his head. Then he glanced sideways at Draco, and their eyes met. For a second, they stared at each other, before Harry blinked and tried to pretend he wanted to look away without actually looking away, and when Draco raised his eyebrow, he smiled shyly and lay down again, placing his head back on Draco's knees facing his stomach. "Good," he said and closed his eyes again.

Draco smiled and brushed his fingertips over his neck, causing Harry to smile slightly. Then he closed his eyes too.

He must have nodded off as well, because when he woke up, Cara was standing in front of him, smiling tenderly. On his knees, Harry stirred, looking around as disoriented as Draco. "Lunch is ready," Cara said, pecked Draco on the forehead, winked and went into the kitchen, where Raleigh's and Enam's voices were audible.

Harry sat up, looking around as if only now grasping where he was, yawned and rubbed his eyes again. It made Draco wonder whether he always did that after waking up, and a voice in the back of his head giggled and told him if things continued to go as smooth as they did, he'd find out soon. Another, more pessimistic voice was of the opinion that they were only pretending and soon, their old enmity would break out again. But Draco knew that this enmity wasn't a given; they may have been like fire and water before, but in sixth year, when Draco had been on their side and helped them with information and had spent lot time with Dumbledore, they had coexisted, mostly ignoring one another. Seventh year had been the same, but still somehow different; maybe because the war had been over and somehow Draco had played a good part in defeating the Dark Lord, even though he had stayed relatively safe, which wasn't something the Gryffindors had liked much.

But this wasn't the time to think about that; in fact, the time to think about that had been long gone, and he had thought everything over more than once. Remembering it now didn't change anything, but made him again aware of the fact that Draco wasn't sure he could or would ever totally trust Harry – yet.

A hand in front of him pulled him out of his thoughts again. Draco blinked and looked up at Harry, who was standing and giving him a hand to help him stand up – not that he needed it; he could get up from the sofamore or less on his own so far. But well, he figured that if Harry _really_ wanted to help him, who was he to stop him?

So Harry pulled him up, and together they went into the kitchen, where their plates had been set as if Harry had always been eating with them and Raleigh greeted them with the enthusiastic declaration that after her nap, they'd go to the beach and she'd make sandmen, and that Draco and Harry simply _had_ to help her. Of course they agreed; Draco a little quicker than Harry to stop him from coddling him – he saw his slight protest in his eyes. But Draco was only pregnant, after all, not sick, and while a little help was nice, it wasn't necessary, and Harry should better get used to that fact from the beginning.

They ate a nice, relaxed lunch together, then Draco brought Raleigh to bed, and when he came back Enam and Cara were busy showing Harry the pictures they had made that day and the day before. From the way Harry was blushing, Draco deduced he'd rather not see them – at least not while Harry was present – and went to write Severus a letter. He included a photos of him and Raleigh, and, after noticing that, Cara decided he needed to add some more and started to pick out photos from Raleigh, Draco, both together, asleep, at the beach, on the sofa, Draco reading a book to her… Draco only imagined Snape's face whenever she enthusiastically showed him another photo that was just 'perfect' and kept silent, knowing she wouldn't listen to his protests anyway. She had a thing for photos, and probably nothing could keep her from showering others with them; he need just look what she had done to Harry. The guy probably needed another bag for all the photos she had taken of him or intended to make copies of for him before he left.

The beach was nice. Draco made two sandmen before retreating to the shade of his parasol again; sun was neither healthy for Anakin nor for him. He always got sunburnt, and also often a headache and sometimes even dizzy. That was why he took special care to always drink a lot at the beach, and why he used sunscreen a lot more than necessary. The day before, he had been a little too shy to rub sunscreen into his skin in front of Harry; he needed to undress for that, after all. He had turned around and done it without actually dropping his robe, only pushing it aside, wishing desperately for someone to invent a charm that would do the work for him.

So far, no wonders had happened, but that was alright; Draco was still a little shy, and his cheeks were a tiny bit too red to blame it on the sun, but he pretended neither to notice that nor Harry's inconspicuous glances and acted totally casual and relaxed. It was mostly Harry's fault he was in this position, looking like he had eaten a melon whole, after all.

Okay, so it had been just as much his own doing, but putting the blame on Harry boosted his self-confidence enough to undress in front of him (again), and so he pretended.

Once again, they ended their beachtime with a dip into the water; this time, Raleigh had a little more stamina and actually paddled around a little, supported by an additional charm and her father, of course.

When they got back for dinner, she talked excitedly about how she was going to learn how to swim soon, and then she'd teach Anakin when he was there. After a quick glance at Harry, she graciously allowed him to be there as well; when Harry asked after Draco, she told him that Draco would be there, anyway. Of course Draco would be there.

After hearing that, Draco had smiled down at the little girl and felt a shudder of something like delight but not quite run down his back; she considered him a real part of the family. Oh, how he had missed that, especially after he had realised what exactly he had been missing.

Dinner had been a nice affair as well, even though Raleigh had almost dropped off into her salad (with ranch dressing) and had been whiney when she had been told that she needed to at least shower first before going to bed. Enam had gone to take care of her, and Cara had left to duplicate the bunch of photos she had decided Harry and Snape just _needed_ , no matter what, transparently declaring that she'd probably take the whole evening, even with her husband's help who'd join her after taking Raleigh to bed, and that they shouldn't wait up for her.

Harry had looked at Draco awkwardly, and Draco had rolled his eyes and waved for him to follow him. There was no need to spend the evening in the living room, after all, when they might as well spend it in Draco's room; they both slept upstairs anyway.

In his room, though, he'd suddenly paused and panicked what they actually were going to do now; Harry had then relieved him of the decision by saying they'd better shower first to get rid of the sand and salt that was in their hair and skin. Draco had agreed and tried not to think about the implications he would have thought about had he not been pregnant; he knew Harry had no second thoughts, and even if he would have had them when had Draco not been pregnant, he wouldn't have them now that Draco was fat and unshapely.

Okay, so he wasn't fat. He still was unshapely and looked like he was going to give birth to an elephant and not a tiny little baby boy that was barely 27 centimetres long and on top of that rolled into a tight ball – the expression 'foetal position' was called that for a good reason, after all.

So Draco had Cookie draw him a bath while he tried to decide what he was going to wear; his sleep t-shirt and boxershorts were the most logical decision, but he'd feel exposed if Harry wore a long-sleeved and long-legged pyjama or even a robe. In the end, he just decided to wear a bathrobe over his shorts and shirt; he'd be comfortable no matter what Harry wore then, not feeling naked and not feeling confined. Not that he felt confined in his normal robes; they were wide enough and still had room for more (Draco really, really didn't want to grow enough to fill them completely – on the other hand, it meant Anakin was very healthy, so maybe he did want it after all… but he refused to think about that any longer), but he always felt overdressed when sitting in daily robes in the room he slept in. Of course, at the manor there had been rooms for everything; a reading room, a sleeping room, a dressing room, a clothes room (a big, big walk-in cupboard, rather), a writing room, a flooing room… you get the drift. Here, they had one room for everything (though they mostly ate in the kitchen) and their private rooms.

After drifting in the bathtub for a while, enjoying the warmth and quiet and weightlessness (Enam had advised him to bathe as often as possible, as it would relieve him of the weight of his stomach and relax his muscles, legs and back), he reluctantly got out again, thankful that the bathtub was big enough to have steps and that it was in-ground. In his situation he would otherwise need help getting into and out of the bathtub, and that would be downright humiliating. Nobody would laugh, of course, but still.

When he got back into his room, naked but for his boxershorts, Harry was sitting in one armchair, and Draco dropped the lotion. He had almost forgotten that Harry would be there, or rather, he hadn't expected him to already be there waiting in his room, though he realised too late that should have.

Harry's eyes dropped automatically to his stomach, and Draco blushed beet red. "Uhm," he said, not knowing what to say, and Harry jerked. "Oh! Oh, I'm sorry." He got up quickly, avoiding looking at Draco and blushing as well. For a second, Draco was annoyed by the fact that they both seemed to be reduced to teenagers in each other's company, ignoring the fact that technically, they _were_ teenagers; but he really had different things to worry about right now.

"I didn't mean to disturb you, I'm sorry," Harry said.

Draco cleared his throat and tried to will the colour out of his cheeks. "You didn't disturb me, I was just startled." And embarrassed.

"Oh. Uhm, need a little help with that?" Harry pointed at the bottle of lotion and walked over to pick it up. "I mean, for your back or something, if you need to. I mean, I could just leave and come back later. Er."

"Harry. It's okay. Thank you, but I can lotion myself on my own."

"Oh. Okay." Harry seemed to deflate a tiny bit, giving Draco the impression that he had wanted to help him. Well, of course he had wanted to; he wouldn't have offered otherwise, but he may have really liked to do it.

Well, it couldn't be helped. Draco certainly would have liked for Harry to help him, but he didn't want to go too far too fast; only his friends had ever rubbed lotion into his skin, and in the bathtub he had come to the conclusion that a little distance needed to be maintained between him and Harry. He had no idea what Harry really wanted, after all; it may only be some kind of mislead affection because Draco was carrying his son, or something similar. If that were the case, Draco would be devastated when it stopped, especially if he had gotten too attached to Harry. Besides, he wasn't even sure what he himself wanted; a relationship with Harry seemed certainly a nice idea, but was maybe not too wise. If something went wrong between them and they broke up, Anakin would be the one who would suffer, and that was the least thing he wanted to happen. Having had something and losing it was vastly different from never having had it at all, Draco knew, and he was of the opinion that it was better not to know what one was missing. It had made him certainly happier with his parents; if he had known what being a family member of the Gabriel's was like then, he most likely wouldn't have been able to bear it, even though life with his parents had most certainly not been horrible.

He motioned for Harry to sit in the armchair again and went to sit down on the bed himself. Carefully, he applied lotion to his legs and arms; pregnancy had dried out his skin (something that wasn't unusual, Enam told him) and the sun, the ocean and the sand were only drying it out even more. He was glad Severus had been so kind to brew a potion to add into the lotion for him that kept his skin moist and elastic for twenty-four hours.

 _Oh, what would I do without Severus?_ , he thought. The man was awesome; brewing him his vitamins and minerals potion that, while not too complicated, needed various ingredients; brewing him this moisturising potion, inventing an anti-jetlag potion for pregnant people especially just for Draco's benefit… Severus would really get an awesome present as soon as this was over and done with.

After he had finished his limbs, Draco looked speculatively at Harry who was staring pensively into the fire he had obviously lightened earlier. He thought for a second before making a decision; quickly, he applied lotion to his upper body and shoulders before calling Harry over. "Harry?"

"Yes?" The black haired man sat up straighter and turned to look at him.

"Do you want to do my stomach?" Well, so much for needing a little distance between them; but his stomach didn't really count. Their son was in there, after all.

Right.

Harry opened his mouth, but no sound came out. He closed it again, swallowed audibly before saying, hoarsely, "Sure."

"Well, come on then." Draco petted the bed next to him, and Harry quickly got up and came over, trying not to jostle him too much while sitting down. He took the bottle of lotion from Draco and put some into his hands, waiting to warm it. Draco was amazed by his thoughtfulness and a little jealous, wondering where or rather from whom he had picked that up.

With another shy glance at Draco's face, Harry reached and put his hands on his stomach. Draco leant back to give him better access and watched the already tanned hands moving over his pale stomach, gently rubbing lotion into his skin. It was very different to having Harry put his head on his stomach, or his hands; then, he just held still, listening or feeling. This was more sensual, more intimate somehow. Draco felt as if he had given something to Harry, placed his trust on him, even though he didn't quite know how or why.

But it wasn't important.

The lotion was soon gone, but Harry didn't stop, very much like he hadn't pulled his hands away when Anakin had stopped kicking the day before. Maybe he was enjoying this as much as Draco, the blond thought with a secret smile, and closed his eyes. Harry's touch was soft, almost delicate, and sometimes he pressed his fingertips in in something resembling a massage, but not strong enough. He was probably afraid he'd hurt him or break something; Draco could relate to the feeling. He was still paranoid that he was going to run into a desk or just the edge of something that stood around uselessly and really hurt Anakin.

After a while, Harry's hands stopped moving and just lay resting on the sides of Draco's stomach. Draco opened his eyes and looked up to find Harry looking at him; as soon as they were looking at each other, Harry slowly leant closer, stealing Draco's breath with that. It looked like he was going to kiss Draco, but barely an inch from his lips, Harry moved higher and kissed Draco's forehead like the evening before. He pulled away again, but didn't sit back; instead, he looked into Draco's eyes, and they both were probably wondering whether he was going to kiss him on the lips now. It seemed like Harry was just about to move when they both suddenly froze.

Anakin chose exactly that moment to announce his presence with a kick. For a second, they looked at each other with eyes as wide as those of teenagers caught while doing something forbidden, then Draco raised his eyebrow and said dryly, if hoarsely, "That boy certainly has timing like nobody else."

Harry let out a breathy laugh and pulled away, the moment broken. "He has." Lowering his eyes after one regretful gaze at him, Harry watched Draco's stomach, waiting. Their son made him wait a bit, but not too long; suddenly, there was a little dent when he kicked, and gone again, but Harry grinned widely as if he had won a prize, beaming up at Draco. "Will he stay awake now?"

Draco shrugged. "You never know. Either he will or he won't; maybe he'll decide to keep me awake the whole night again, and maybe he just woke up and felt like stretching a little before going back to sleep."

"Can I stay for a bit?"

Draco pursed his lips, unable to deny Harry this. The man would be gone tomorrow evening, and it really was no hardship for Draco. Quite the opposite, really. "Sure, but I need to lie down or you'll have to get me some pillows; my back hurts."

Harry smiled widely. "Thank you." Before Draco could reply, Harry pulled his hands away and crawled to his headboard, gathering pillows. The skin where his hands had been before felt cold and unprotected, and Draco put his own hands on it, trying to compensate, but his hands weren't as warm, and so it didn't really work. But his son didn't mind and happily kicked him again, so it was okay. Behind him, Harry finished rummaging around, fluffing pillows and whatnot, but didn't say anything. Draco tried to turn around to look at him but he was at a bad angle, and so he huffed. "What is it?"

"Uhm," Harry said. "I was just wondering if you… ah, forget it. I was being too fast again."

Draco rolled his eyes, knowing Harry couldn't see it anyway. "We had this already. Just ask."

"Uhm, would you, er, liebackagainstmesoIcanholdyou?"

"What?" Draco wriggled around until he could look at Harry, stunned. "Did you just say what I think you did?"

"Uhm, maybe?" Harry looked incredibly nervous. "Depends on what you think I said."

Draco tilted his head, staring at the fidgeting young man. His silence once again lasted too long, apparently, for Harry cleared his throat and lowered his head. "Forget it. I mean, I said I was being too fast. Just pretend I didn't say anything."

"No, no, wait." Draco licked his lips. This was big. This was huge. This was certainly moving way too fast, and he probably shouldn't allow it. "Okay."

"What?" Harry blinked.

"I said, okay. Now are you going to sit or what?"

Blushing beet red, Harry slowly moved to lean back into the mountain of pillows he had just made for Draco. The blond crawled closer as best as he could, struggled to pull the blanket out from under him until Harry lifted his hips, and then turned around to settle his back between Harry's legs. Carefully, he leant back into the warm body. "Am I to heavy?"

"Not at all," Harry replied, and Draco licked his lips. He could hear Harry's voice next to his ear, felt it rumble against his back and the warm caress of breath stirring his hair. Draco wriggled around a bit to find a comfortable position, and only when Harry slowly let go his breath did he notice that he had held it when he had moved. The thought made him blush for some reason.

Leaning forward again, Draco pulled the blanket over their legs up to his shoulders; he was still bare and even though Harry was warm and the night wasn't too cold either, he wanted the warmth of the blanket. It would feel cosier, more comfortable. Harry helped him tuck himself in, and then he hesitated. Having no patience for Harry's shyness now, in this position, Draco grabbed his hands and put them on his stomach again. Anakin was still awake and moving, but Draco wasn't sure his other father could really feel it; he wasn't really kicking or boxing him, with a few exceptions. And after a while, his moving ceased completely and he fell asleep again. Draco tried not to, but he felt himself drifting off as well; Harry's breath and warmth and heartbeat and just his comforting and somehow protecting embrace lulled him to sleep.

When Draco woke up because he needed to use the toilet, it was dark in his room. The fireplace was dark, either the fire had died out or Harry had put it out.

Harry… was still in his room. In his bed. Behind him.

Both is arms had been moved on top of the blanket, keeping it close and on top of Draco. They had both sunken down and were now almost lying; it couldn't be a comfortable position for Harry, but the man was asleep, so he probably didn't notice. If he had a backache in the morning, Draco knew just the charm for it – and the woman to knead it out again, something that lasted longer.

His bladder was really bothering him – it always did, nowadays; he really didn't want to know how often he went to the toilet a day – and so he slid off the bed, making sure to keep Harry covered by the blanket so he wouldn't get cold, and traipsed into the bathroom.

When he came back again, Harry had, either in sleep or after awakening, maybe because Draco had left, slid off the mountain of pillows totally and was now lying on his side, knees bent. Draco sleepily pulled up the blanket, crawled under it and then edged closer and closer to Harry with his back towards the sleeping figure, almost spooning him. When he was close enough to feel Harry's warmth, he sighed and pulled a pillow under his head and another one under his stomach.

He was just drifting off to sleep again when he felt the body behind him cuddle closer, spooning him properly, and put an arm around him. A head joined him on the pillow, a nose rubbed the back of his neck, and Harry made a sleepy noise before apparently falling asleep again. Before Draco could even try to think, he had joined him.


	29. Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Time we spent Together

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Saying goodbye doesn't mean anything. It's the time we spent together that matters, not how we left it._  
>  Trey Parker and Matt Stone, South Park, Tweek Vs. Craig, 1999

Draco woke up to the totally unusual feeling of a warm body pressed into his back, warming him, and an arm wrapped around his waist, hand resting on his stomach. Warm fingertips were making tiny circles on his bare skin – another unusual thing; he never slept bare – and someone's breath was stirring his hair.

And despite the total unusualness and peculiarity of the situation, Draco didn't feel threatened, or confused, or even just uncomfortable; it was the opposite. He felt relaxed, protected, cared for. And there it was once again, this word; protection. He didn't need protection; he could protect himself and his son perfectly well without any help. But still, he couldn't deny that it was rather nice to feel like someone would protect him nevertheless, even though he didn't need it

He sighed and wriggled a little closer. The tiny caresses on his stomach stopped for a second before slowly, hesitantly continuing; Harry knew he was awake now.

Harry.

Draco felt the idiotic urge to giggle childishly.

"You awake?", Harry's whisper drifted to him, warm breath into his hair.

Draco made a sleepy murmur, not deigning to answer. Then he huffed and murmured, "Toilet."

"What?" Harry sounded confused, and Draco could almost see his eyes blinking.

"Me. Toilet." The blond clarified, not feeling up to complete sentences yet.

"Oh. Well, I'm not stopping you."

"You are. Shutup."

Thankfully, Harry did, only rubbing his nose into Draco's hair again. He seemed to enjoy doing that.

His bladder started to get annoyingly insistent after a while, but Draco refused to leave the bed and comfortable embrace. Or rather, to leave Harry; he could have the bed any time he wanted, but Harry was leaving tonight. Besides, he was perfectly aware that if he moved away, the atmosphere would be broken, and then they would be forced to think about the fact that they had slept in bed together, liked it, and what it meant. It had been definitely overstepping boundaries: wherever those had been laying, sleeping together had certainly not been within them. Draco could feel the doubts and bad feelings looming over him, and if he moved, he'd have to acknowledge them.

But Draco liked this. Sure, they weren't going to be best friends from now on, like he had said earlier, and they still had a lot of differences and issues to talk about, but that didn't change the fact that he liked sleeping in Harry's arms, as kitschy as that sounded. It was most likely at least partly the fact that Harry was Anakin's other parent; Draco couldn't think of anyone right now, but he probably wouldn't have felt as relaxed and comfortable with someone else. Being pregnant was magical; not only was he growing a new life inside of him that had been created out of an act of intimacy, no matter how twisted it had been by his changing gender (and he refused to think about that anymore; what was done was done), he was also going to give birth to a magical child. Anakin's magic was inside of them both, his carrying parent and Anakin himself and it had been made by taking samples of both Harry's and Draco's magic, but without actually taking something away, weakening them. People would always be able to trace Anakin's parents through his magic, even after they had died, just as people could trace his parents' magic through Draco's own magic, and the same with Harry. And Anakin would always recognise his parent's magic; it would feel familiar, different for all his life, and hopefully give him the comforting feeling of warmth and love.

Harry pressed a tender kiss into his hair and asked, rather regretfully and softly, "Toilet?"

Sighing, Draco nodded. He really needed to go; his bladder was rather small now that Anakin needed so much space inside of him. All his organs were pushed into different positions and places or generally affected somehow. It was a scary thought, and that it was possible without meaning the death of the carrier made pregnancy even more amazing.

Hesitantly and taking his time, Draco slipped out of Harry's embrace and edged towards the side of the bed. When he got out from the warmth of underneath the blanket, he shivered; he wasn't used to sleeping bare. Quickly making his way into the bathroom, he went about his business and then pulled a long-sleeved shirt over his head. It wouldn't cover his bulging stomach, but at least his arms and upper body would be warm. Anyway, he intended to get back under the blanket as quick as possible.

When he came back into his bedroom, it was as he had thought: Harry was sitting upright, looking around blearily and half avoiding Draco's eyes, half seeking them out questioningly. For a second, Draco wondered if he had rubbed his eyes already.

Without saying anything, Draco waddled back to the bed, pulled up the blanket and slid not-so-gracefully underneath it. Then he edged to the middle where they had been lying before; where he fancied their warmth was. His blanket was spelled to contain and sustain warmth evenly, but that wasn't the point. He knew Harry was watching him as he curled up next to him; probably he was pondering whether Draco was lying with his back to him in rejection or invitation. It was the latter, but Draco let him figure that out himself. And either Harry did, or he just told himself not to care, because he lay down again and once again snuggled into Draco's back from head to toe, one arm sliding over Draco's waist (that was nonexistent nowadays, but he liked to pretend it was still there) again to hold him. It reminded Draco of the position they had been sleeping in that fateful night even months ago. So much had changed since then, it felt like it should've been way longer.

"Is this alright?", Harry whispered into Draco's hair, and the blond only barely resisted the urge to elbow him. "I wouldn't be here if it weren't, would I?", he instead asked. Then he sighed. "No, it probably isn't. But I don't want to care about that now." He felt Harry nod into his hair, and then they were both silent again, enjoying the piece and closeness.

They weren't lucky enough to fall asleep again, but dozed for a while until they were both startled awake again by a loud 'thud' as Raleigh ran into his door. She always did that when she was running; instead of slowing down, she ran into doors or walls. Everyone was half-heartedly trying to rid her of that habit; it was cute, but could harm her if she ever hit her head.

Draco groaned when reality came back insistently and pulled the blanket over both their heads.

"Dray!", Raleigh exclaimed, and the next thing he knew was that she was wriggling under the blanket and crawling towards him. She had always liked his bed; it was so big, bigger than any bed she had seen before – out of her parent's bed downstairs in their room – and she took every chance to get into it. Or maybe she just wanted to cuddle, because when she had found him (them), she snuggled into Draco, curled around his stomach and head pressed against his chest. But she was a child and had been awake for a little while; she couldn't lie still for longer than a minute, and after a while of her wriggling around impatiently, Draco sighed. "Morning Ray."

She giggled. "Morning Draco! Is Harry here?"

"Yes," Draco replied dryly. "That arm that has been in your way is his."

"Morning Harry!"

"Morning Raleigh." Harry sounded a bit hoarse, and a bit hesitant, but the little girl didn't notice. "Mummy says you need to get up if you want to eat breakfast; and she says if you don't you will have to eat lunch for breakfast! Cookie makes pasta with sauce, and tomato for me because I don't like that."

"Okay, honey, thanks for telling us. We'll come down soon."

"Okay!" She smiled brightly, not that they could really clearly see it under the darkness of the blanket, moved to kiss Draco on the forehead and stomach (that had been for Anakin) and slid off the bed again. They heard her bounce back to the door and close it behind her; Draco was glad she had remembered doing that, because more often than not, she didn't.

They continued to lie there for a bit, but the atmosphere had been broken completely, and after a while, Harry shifted. Resigning, Draco sighed and regretfully struggled to sit up, quickly supported by Harry's hand between his shoulder blades, giving him balance and support.

Harry sat up as well, and they were sitting next to each other without really knowing where to go from there.

"Uhm," Harry started courageously, ever so gryffindorily. Thankfully, Draco's stomach rumbled and simultaneously broke the building tension, making them chuckle, and gave Draco the nudge he had needed to make a decision. "Let's talk later. It's morning, I'm hungry, and I don't feel like having a serious discussion now."

Harry agreed only too readily, sounding slightly relieved. "Okay. I'll go to my room and dress, then."

"You do that." Draco raised an eyebrow and watched Harry slip off his bed and pad out of the door towards his own room. Then he sighed and went about his morning business.

When he came down into the kitchen Cara, who was sitting at the still set table and reading a book, looked up at him and grinned knowingly. Harry was already there and eating some cornflakes. Thankfully, Cara showed mercy and didn't actually say anything about them; instead, she settled for a simple "Good morning" and went back to her book. "Oh." She looked up again. "Enam and Raleigh are going for a walk, they'll be back in a bit."

"Morning. Okay." Draco sat down in his chair and ate his usual breakfast of everything mixed with everything and ranch dressing.

It was a calm breakfast, thankfully lacking any uncomfortable silences or the like; it seemed Harry was more or less at ease with their situation, whatever it was, or he had just decided he'd think about it later, in private, like Draco had.

After they had eaten, Cara went to show Harry the photos she and her husband had made copies of the previous evening and also gave Draco the ones he was to send to Severus. So Draco left them to it and went back to his letter to add the photos, though of course not before looking them through. They were mostly of Raleigh and Draco, but Draco noticed the general theme of the photos was different than of those she had copied for Harry; they seemed similar, showing them together or separately doing something (and giving good document of the progress of Draco's pregnancy, he noticed), but they weren't. Something was different, but it took him a while to get what it was.

The viewpoint of Harry's photos was more that of a family member; they were more intimate, sometimes showing more private or delicate moments; not something everyone would get to see. Cara also had taken great care to pick up those photos in which Draco looked especially handsome, he suddenly realised with a startled laugh. Apparently that was her subtle attempt at matchmaking (there had been more obvious ones, like when she had sent Harry up to Draco's bedroom knowing Draco was most likely asleep the morning he had arrived); Draco was sure it was working. At the very least, Harry had spent some time looking at them, especially that photo on the stairs where Draco was carrying Raleigh. Severus' photos were less personal and intimate; they showed Raleigh and Draco, alright, but only one of the pictures was of them sleeping, and not in Draco's or Raleigh's bed, but on the couch.

Shaking his head, Draco put the photos to the letter and also added a drawing Raleigh had made and insisted he send 'Snappy'; it was a portrait of the potions master wearing pink robes with blue stars. The little girl was of the opinion that Severus wore too dark clothes and had decided to give him tips how he could dress more beautifully so he'd find a boy- or girlfriend and have babies like Draco.

Draco would simply love to see his face when he saw the picture and the explanation Draco had written on a note and attached to it, citing Raleigh's comment about Snape's way of dressing.

When Raleigh came back, Cara sent Harry to play with her; usually Draco would have done that, but they didn't want Harry to feel left out, and also wanted him and Raleigh to build a solid relationship, as far as that was possible with a three years old girl. And, of course, Cara wanted to talk to Draco.

"Draco," she said softly as soon as Harry and Raleigh were safely down the stairs in Raleigh's room. The blond looked up, met her eyes, sighed and put the letter he had been reading through again away.

"Yes?"

"What are you doing?"

"Honestly? I don't know." Draco leant back, looking out of the window without seeing anything. "I just don't know."

"Do you think it's wise?" Cara came over to sit next to him on the sofa.

He shrugged. "Probably not, but then again, maybe it is exactly the right thing to do. Who knows?"

"And you want it," she added, barely above whispering.

Draco lowered his gaze and nodded, blinking heavily to prevent himself from tearing up, and Cara sighed and put an arm around him, pulling him into her body. She didn't actually say anything anymore, and neither did Draco. It wasn't necessary.

When Harry came back into the living room, he paused when he saw Draco lying with his head on Cara's lap, pillow under his stomach and eyes closed. Cara's fingers were in his hair, softly massaging his scalp, her other hand laying above Draco's heart; the blond man only blinked wearily when he heard Harry enter and then closed his eyes again.

"Uhm," Harry said. "Raleigh wants to show you something, Cara."

She shrugged. "Right now, I can't."

"Okay… what should I tell her?"

"Well, exactly that. She has to learn I won't come whenever she wants me to. When I can I will, but at the moment, I don't have time for her."

"Uh, alright…" Harry left and came back after only a few minutes, almost dragged into the room by a teary-eyed and sniffling Raleigh. When the little girl saw her mother and Draco, she paused. She opened her mouth to say something, but her mother put a finger to her lips to silence her. With wide eyes, Raleigh nodded, tiptoed over to the two on the sofa and carefully and as tender as a child her age was able to kissed Draco on the forehead. Then she turned around and tiptoed out again, dragging Harry back with her.

Draco sighed and allowed himself to doze off.

He came aware again when someone caressed his cheek; he blinked blearily and looked straight into Enam's face, who was crouching down in front of his wife. "Wakey, wakey, Draco," he said and smiled. "It's lunchtime."

Still half asleep, Draco nodded and covered a wide yawn politely with his hand. "How long?", he asked.

"Not long. Maybe half an hour, not more," Cara answered, her hands still in his hair and on his chest.

Draco nodded again and struggled to sit up, taking the hand offered by Enam. Rubbing his eyes and face, he looked around sleepily while placing his feet on the floor. Enam had forewarned him of this; he would start to feel lethargic again, especially later when Anakin would keep him awake more and more often. He certainly wasn't looking forward to it, but there was no way around it anyway, and he had overcome the worst part. Soon Anakin would be fully developed and only needed to grow anymore; if Draco died now or they got into an accident that would force them apart too soon, his son was physically able to survive. He may still need to be put into a magical bubble to ensure he would be completely fine, but it wasn't a total necessity anymore. The thought was very comforting to Draco.

Still moving a little sluggishly, Draco followed Cara into the kitchen for lunch. He noticed that Harry was watching him, but wasn't sure what to read into the gaze. It was something like curiosity, or maybe worry, but he couldn't really decide and because he was still a little tired, he came to the conclusion that he wouldn't be able to discern it anyway.

Raleigh's naptime was spent in quiet; Harry was packing his things, Draco was reading, and Enam and Cara had gone off somewhere. For the afternoon, they had once again planned to go to the beach; Harry had said he liked that idea best (apparently, he had discovered his love for the beach and ocean), and they spent most days there anyway. Cara had been thinking about whether that was too boring for their visitor, but Harry had said that holidays meant relaxing for him, and spending time at the beach was relaxing; he didn't need to go sightseeing or something. He could always do that some other time, if he wanted to. It was a short break anyway.

So they went to the beach; Harry immediately went for the ocean, Cara and Raleigh started to build a pond for the fish farm Raleigh was planning, Enam settled for reading, and Draco spent some time rubbing sunscreen into his skin twice. Then he cast a charm that would keep his temperature even, put on a hat, cast a sticking charm on that, and waded into the ocean. He had barely thought twice about leaving his robe in a heap and walking around only in swimming trunks; after having slept with Harry and because of the fact that it was Harry's son that was making him look so bloated he thought if Harry actually said anything about him being fat, he would really enjoy punching him instead of feeling ridiculed. Well, that too, but Harry wouldn't say anything like that anyway, he was mostly sure.

Absently watching the waves whirl up the white sand under his steps, Draco thought about the previous night. Sleeping with Harry had been… wonderful, and all those other kitschy words he didn't like and wouldn't bother applying to what he had felt. It had felt like that was how it should have been all along, how they belonged; but how much, he wondered, was reality and what was hormones and magic influencing him because his body knew that Harry had contributed the other part of the seed that had grown into Anakin?

How much, he asked himself, would be real if he weren't pregnant, for both himself and for Harry?

Well, at least he could answer part of that question easily. Harry would never ever have looked twice at him; he would have forgotten and never thought of Draco again after graduation. In ten years at Reunion they would maybe have glanced at each other, and Harry would have looked away to his pretty wife, showing around pictures of his wonderful children and generally fulfilling all clichés people expected him to fulfil – head auror, three children properly named after loved ones that had died in the war, perfect marriage.

And Draco? He couldn't tell. That had been part of the problem of his job search; he had no idea where he wanted to see himself in ten years. Well, at least that question was moot now. In ten – or rather, eleven – years, he'd be preparing for his son's departure to Hogwarts.

But he couldn't cast everything that had happened between them aside just because it wouldn't have happened without Anakin. Because fact was, it _had_ happened, and it _would_ affect them and their lives somehow.

Wading a little deeper, Draco shadowed his eyes and looked for the black, wet head that was Harry swimming around in the ocean, barely inside the wards of the beach. What would Harry do when he got back? Would he tell his friends that he was looking forward to the birth of his son? Would he tell them that he thought he could get along with Draco? Or would he, encouraged by their closeness, suddenly think he had any right to decide anything concerning their son?

What would Draco do when Harry was gone? Well, at first he would have a long, long talk with Enam and Cara. They'd analyse Harry's behaviour – and Draco's, of course – their feelings and reactions, and would think about all possible outcomes of this. What Draco was sure of was that at least Cara really liked Harry; otherwise, she wouldn't have shown him all photos. With Enam, it was hard to tell, but he'd find out later.

It was obvious that Raleigh really liked Harry; she didn't view him as a member of the family yet, but if Harry stayed a while longer, she probably would. At the very least, she saw him closer to them than 'Snappy', and she certainly had noticed his closeness to Draco, or Draco's closeness to him. Maybe she had even felt he was Anakin's father; she knew that, of course, because Draco had told her, but he wondered if she would have been able to tell without them saying anything. Had she noticed anything when they had been playing in the snow that day at Hogwarts? Was that why she had run towards him so trustfully, even though normally she was wary of strangers?

Questions over questions that had no answers. Draco sighed. Only time would tell, and he would just have to learn patience.

He was starting to feel tired again, and so Draco went back to his parasol to lie back, maybe nap a bit or read a little. When he was just about to doze off again, even though he was trying not to because he didn't want to lie awake that night, someone dripped cold water on his arm and he flinched unreasonably hard, pulling his arm back.

"Oh, sorry," Harry said, and Draco blinked up into him, blinded by the bright sky and sunlight. Shadowing his eyes from the light, he pulled himself up to his elbow and said "Don't worry about it."

Harry smiled shortly. "I have to go back now if I want to shower before I leave. I wanted to ask if you'd come with me."

"Sure," Draco replied softly. He took the hand Harry gave him and let him pull him up to his feet. Pulling on his robe, he waited as Harry said goodbye to the Gabriel's. Raleigh actually cried, because she really, really didn't want him to go; Cara had to pull her away form Harry because she was clinging to him so much. Cara hugged him and Enam shook his hand, and then Harry and Draco walked back to the house.

Originally, they had intended to accompany him to Auckland, but Harry had said they didn't need to make the effort. His argument had been that he knew the way and was quicker when he apparated anyway; they didn't need to make such an unnecessary trip. In the face of his insistence, they had finally given up. Draco had felt bad anyway because they would have had to make the detour over the Aotea Island Ministry again, seeing as he couldn't apparate.

They were walking in silence. It was a mere five-minutes-walk trailing through the forest, and Harry's hand brushed Draco's more often than necessary; not that he minded. When they arrived at the house, Harry wordlessly went to his room to take a shower, only glancing back at Draco once. Draco sat on the stairs and looked at Harry's rucksack that was sitting next to his shoes. In there were his shrunken clothes and other things, as well as Draco's letter and photos for Snape, and Harry's own photos. Draco knew for a fact that Cara had sneaked an envelope into the rucksack before they had left; Harry hadn't noticed. The blond had to admit he was very curious, but he wouldn't violate Harry or Cara's privacy by just taking a look at it. He'd simply have to ask; sooner or later one of them would tell him. Anyway, he was suspecting it was the photos Cara had sneakily made of them when they hadn't been looking or didn't notice; probably mostly wizarding photos. She was of the opinion that wizarding photos were more personal somehow and only made them when she thought it would add to the beauty of the picture. Draco's Raleigh-carrying-photo, for example, would be totally ruined if he were moving, she said. For Draco, it had been difficult to get used to the non-moving photos, but by now he was almost more used to them than to the normal, wizarding-variant.

When Harry came back, hair wet and smelling of soap and freshness, he wordlessly helped Draco up again. For a while, they just stood together, looking at each other without meeting eyes; it should have been awkward, but for some reason it wasn't. Faintly, Draco thought he should be embarrassed because they probably looked ridiculous, but he wasn't.

After a while, Harry moved his hand, brushing his fingertips over Draco's cheeks as if in trance. He leant closer, and suddenly Draco was absolutely sure he was going to kiss him.

"No," he whispered and held his hand up. "Not yet."

Not hiding his disappointment and yearning, Harry searched his face and nodded before pulling away a little, giving Draco and himself space to breathe. He didn't apologise, though; Draco had a feeling he was about to, but then he just closed his mouth again, swallowed, and softly, carefully and hesitantly, as if expecting protest any second, pulled Draco into his arms.

It was the first time they hugged from the front; until then, Harry had only held him from behind. His stomach was in the way, but Draco had a feeling that was exactly what Harry had wanted to happen, what he wanted; he was hugging both Draco and Anakin that way.

With a sigh, Draco returned the hug and took a deep breath to remember Harry's smell. He could feel ridiculous later.

When Harry pulled back he said, a little hoarsely but otherwise more or less steady, "I loved this. Staying here, I mean. Thank you for inviting me, for letting me stay with you and get to know both you and your family. And Draco… I think you're amazing. You're strong. I'm not sure I would have possessed the strength to go through everything you went through and come out being such a wonderful person, and I mean that. I may not know you inside out yet, but I know the most important things; I know enough to honestly say that."

Draco swallowed and blinked. "Uh. Thank you. I mean, I… really liked having you here."

Harry smiled. "Good. That's good. I probably should go, or I may not manage to, and my boss would kick my ass tomorrow."

"Okay." Draco watched as Harry slipped into his shoes, pulled on his winter cloak – he was going back to icy, snowy England, after all – and walked to the door. Draco followed him and waited in the doorway, watching while Harry walked a few steps away from them, pulled out his wand, and turned around to look at Draco for a moment before apparating away with the usual pop. Normally, he would have had to walk a while to get out from the wards, but Draco had Cookie lower them for the short time Harry would need to leave; it wasn't necessary he went into the forest and got attacked by mosquitoes when he was on the verge of leaving, in his opinion.

He stood there for a few minutes, staring at the space Harry had been standing on but not actually seeing anything. Then he sighed and closed the door and walked up to his room to take a really long bath.


	30. Chapter Twenty-Nine: Written Conversations 2

_Dear Harry,_

 _By the time you read this letter, you will have arrived at your home, probably have unpacked and maybe looked through the photos again.  
I took a few special photos of you both, and I liked them a lot, and so I put them into this envelope.  
Now, you probably expected this; here is your lecture.  
Don't hurt Draco. Really, really don't. If you do, we may be able to kick your ass, but we can't mend what you did to him, so don't.  
He has been burnt badly, and he's terribly afraid, even though he has a hard time admitting it to even himself. His life hasn't been easy so far, and it is our greatest wish to change that. If that is what you want too, you are welcome.  
But if you only feel obliged to be nice and cooperative because Draco is carrying your son, or if you are unable to differentiate between affection caused by the fact that he's pregnant with your offspring and real affection for the person Draco is and not what he could symbolise for you or your son or what role he could play in your life, then you better stop this right now. You are probably not even aware of what you can do and have already done, so you either better be very careful, or you decide that this is what you want and continue with your head first dive – but when you reach the bottom and suddenly realise the pond is far less deep and wonderful than you dreamed, that it has edges and muddy parts you thought were gone, it will be too late to be careful.  
I'm saying this because I love Draco for everything he is, and the muddy parts include that. Don't make any mistakes you can't undo.  
Greetings,_

 _Cara_

 _~_

 _Dear Cara,_

 _I am not so sure what I really want. I only know that Draco is a very special person, and I didn't even realise it until it became so obvious somebody might as well have painted it into the sky.  
I know that I like Draco. A lot. Probably a lot more than is reasonable considering the fact that our only civil contact has been through letters so far and one visit, and we avoided talking about important things in both. But that doesn't change what I want, and I am not sure anything I might find out about Draco (whatever there may be; I can't imagine he has some big secret I haven't speculated about at this point) will change that. It could only make it painful.  
I will be careful. It may sound ridiculous with the knowledge of how un-careful I have been so far, but I will. I don't want to hurt Draco; not even if I still couldn't stand him I would, not like this, and that certainly isn't the case anymore.  
But I have realised – maybe because of your letter – that I need to figure out what I want before I go and entangle Draco any further in this.  
Greetings,_

 _Harry_

 _~_

 _Hey Draco,_

 _How are you? Did you have a nice day?  
I was a little time confused; I got home in the wee hours of morning; everyone was still asleep. But I took an energy potion like you told me and made it safely through the day (and night). I sent Snape the letter; I didn't have the time to go to Hogwarts to give it to him personally.  
Work is kind of boring (I hope Neville won't find out I said this, he loves the greenhouse and think it's paradise on earth… but honestly, I'll be the first one out the door when this working experience is over in two weeks).  
I told you I was making a working experience at a greenhouse near Guildford, did I?  
I think I mentioned it, but I'm not sure if I said it to you or Cara or Enam (or all of you)…  
They are very nice, by the way. I don't really know about Enam, he seemed a little distanced, but Cara is a wonderful person. She reminds me a little of Molly Weasley; I hope you'll get to know her someday.  
And… did you know that Cara made photos of us? When we were sleeping in your bed, I mean. They're very good, is she a professional photographer? I'm sure you have seen the pictures too by now, haven't you?  
Well. I think we should maybe start to talk about important, shaky things, but I can't think of anything. It all seems so far away now, in a past that is long gone. I don't know. Do you have an idea?  
I hope you (and Anakin) are well._

 _Harry_

 _~_

 _Draco,_

 _….thank you for that letter. Tell the brat thank you, too. Do you really need a photo of me? You know what I look like.  
Your photos were like ripped out of a Hufflepuff dream, I think I'm going to have nightmares for weeks. It was so… **idyllic** . Next thing you tell me is that you're going to bond with Potter and have his next eight lovechildren and then some.  
Please spare me of that. And if you can't, have Potter wear one of those fluffy white muggle dresses the girls recently go so crazy about; I think that could actually have me attend, if only to laugh at him.  
School is running its course and I swear, those brats get more and more stupid every time they come back from the holidays. I expect your son to show the opposite symptoms, or I will be very disappointed in you.  
Our favourite newspaper is still printing about you; last time I paid attention, they were on about what could possibly have happened since it's been "documented" that you were at Hogwarts and that Potter went there too. They started a betting pool, A) for happysappy Reunion, and B) for a long, hard fight about who gets to be main legal guardian.  
Honestly, where do they pick up their information?  
The headmaster and practically the rest of the staff send their greetings. Are you still eating that ranch stuff you practically drank nonstop when you were here? Do you need more potion? If I were you, I wouldn't trust the brewers over there. You never know what they're trying to sell you as their new universal potion._

 _Severus Snape_

 _~_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _Yes, we are well. Anakin currently has a hiccup; he's kind of tickling me, it's funny. Enam says he's training his musculature; if you wan to know more details, ask him.  
Raleigh is sometimes a little down because you are gone; she says her father's sandcastles are boring, I can't really build any without magic, and her mother's always come crashing down before they're finished..  
Yes, you said you were doing a working experience; seems to me like you had no idea what to do and just tagged along with one of your friends because Granger was nagging that you needed to do **something** .  
So, at least now you know that you'll never really work with plants, don't you? Do you have an idea what you're going to do next?  
At the end of our seventh year, I really had no idea what to do either; I still don't, but that decision has been pushed to some indefinable time in the future. Maybe you should get pregnant too, it solves so many problems.  
Or you can take my pregnancy as an excuse – if you can afford not to work, that is, but I think you do, don't you? The Potters weren't exactly poor, if I remember correctly.  
Well, anyway, I think you should take your time deciding what to do; it will influence the rest of your life, after all. Working experiences are a good idea for that, as well; you don't look like you've been lazing around after Hogwarts later when you apply for a job.  
Enam is… well, let's put it like that: Cara is optimistic and enthusiastic, and Enam is balancing her out. He's not pessimistic, he's just careful. They're both not exactly neutral either; Cara **wants** you to get along well with me, and Enam is more tentative. I think he's also biased because he's been a Healer specialised on male pregnancies for more than twenty years, and he knows what great a difference it makes if you go through that alone or not.  
Anyways; if you want to talk about shaky things, then I have a question for you: why did you (and your friends) act like that towards me even after I proved I was on your side?  
About the photos; I had suspicions she had done something like that, but I didn't know for sure until he showed me the pictures. They **are** nice. And no, she's no professional, but her sister is, and she just picked up some things along the way; it was inevitable, I suppose. I'm sure you noticed that she is kind of obsessed with photos, be it making them, showing them, or spreading them.  
Greetings from the family,_

 _Draco_

 _PS: The picture is (obviously) from Raleigh. She says it's you, me, and Anakin._

 _~_

 _Dear Draco,_

 _That's so awesome! Can others feel it? Do you think I could if I were there?  
About Raleigh, that's sad. I made a picture of myself for her, I hope that cheers her up a little. That picture she drew is very cute; I pinned it to my wall.  
With the greenhouse and Hermione... yeah, that's kind of exactly what happened. I don't know why she can't just leave me alone; I mean, it's my life, isn't it? If I want to do nothing, then I want to do nothing, and that's it.  
But you are right (and she is, too, I suppose); I can't just do nothing. But neither do I want to start to work and find out it's so time-consuming that I don't have any time left for you or Anakin.  
That reminds me; will you come back to England after giving birth? Or will you actually give birth here? If I understand correctly, you only left to get rid of the aurors and me and to be safe, and I hope you know now that I wouldn't ever bother you like that, and neither will the aurors now if they know what's good for them. I have a lot of pull I guess, and if really anyone bothers you, I have no qualms of using it.  
Normally, I wouldn't, but this isn't to gain any personal benefit or something, but to keep you and my son safe, and I won't tolerate anyone harming you both in any way.  
I'm sorry if that bothers you; I know I have no rights to say that, but it bothered me a lot that you had to leave the country, England, the place where you grew up, your home, to feel safe, to be safe, to know that you can carry out your pregnancy without fear.  
I know that the danger of a man miscarrying is a lot greater than that of a woman, and even though that risk isn't so great anymore, it's still there, and I really, really don't want any harm coming to either of you now. I researched a bit, and I hope my information is right, but if you miscarried now, Anakin would have a chance to survive, wouldn't he? What about you?  
Ah, no, scratch that. I don't want to talk about things like that; I don't want to worry about you being in danger, either of you.  
About my friends and me... we were simply narrow-minded, self-righteous and prejudiced; exactly those things we accused you of being (and that, to be honest, you've been for a long time). We were proven wrong; you are neither of those things anymore, haven't been for a while, even though you were when you were a child.  
And that's exactly the point; you were a child, only a child. You didn't know reality, you didn't have to know; I did, and I didn't understand how you couldn't, but I do now. You were a child believing what his parents told him, and you had no reason to distrust anything they said.  
But back then, I didn't understand. I was a real asshole; I felt I had been right, and you had been in the wrong, and I expected you to come crawling and apologise for being so wrong the whole time, and when you didn't, I believed you arrogant and still the asshole you were before, only you were following an own agenda now to profit from us (me) and our work.  
Isn't it ironic? You and Snape both always accused me of being arrogant, and I always honestly believed I wasn't. Only a while ago I realised that in reality, I was, had always been, at least a little. Had I really been the nice person I wanted myself to be, I would have sat down with you in sixth year to talk, I would have asked and wondered why you had changed instead of simply labelling you an asshole not worth thinking about and going on, I suppose. I would have with anybody else.  
Well, I regret that, now. I know how wrong I have been, and I wish some things had been different - I tried to wish we had been at least on friendly terms, so you could have come and asked back for your black blook, or rather, that I had never taken it. (By the way, I didn't see it and take it on purpose; it had slipped away a little and I noticed it only after you had left. I took it, and instead of giving it back to you, I tried to open it. That was wrong, and I apologise.)  
But I found I can not really regret that, because out of that, we got Anakin, and I am really, honestly happy about that, even though he's not even there yet.  
I hope you aren't angry at me for saying that; I have acted like a real asshole when you told me. But after I got to think about it, and especially after I saw you at Hogwarts (and especially when we talked), I found I couldn't regret it. It may not have been on purpose, we may not have wished for that to happen, but it did, and honestly, I am glad it did. It made me realise a lot things about myself and about you, and when I think back now, I shudder at the person I have been, and I don't want to think about who I would have become had that not happened.  
I'm glad we have Anakin. I'm glad we're going to be parents; I'm really looking forwards to it, even though it isn't something I planned to happen so early (or with you). But the past is in the past, it's gone, and we both made mistakes, some worse, some not, but I think it's time we stop looking back and start looking forwards, look at Anakin and what we'll have with him.  
I'm not saying we'll be a happy family, there are too many insecurities for that right now, but I promise I'll never lose my temper; if I feel I will, I'll leave. I won't make any decisions without talking to you, and if you want to raise Anakin at Malfoy Manor, I have no problem with that. I would like to visit the Weasleys with him some time, because he's my son and they're my family, and I'd be very happy if you would come with us, because you're part of my other family, and I want you to get along, but if you don't want to, I understand. The'll be nice to you though (if you are nice too).  
So, uhm, I kind of forgot the point. I mean, uh... I hope you don't feel I'm being too personal or anything, but if you do, just pretend I didn't say anything. (Or rather, write.)  
Greetings (also to your family),_

 _Harry_

 _PS: Do you know what would be even more awesome? If you and your family, Cara, Enam and Raleigh, would come with me to the Weasleys one day. I know that's far into the future, but... I would like that._

 _~_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I don't know, I didn't test it yet - or rather, so far he never had the grace to get a hiccup at a decent time. I know he has no idea of day and night yet, but I thought he was at least a little show-off, with the way he always plays with people who offer him a hand (no pun intended. Was there one? I am a little tired, sorry. Blame your son, he's trying to drive me crazy, I think. I mean, I love him, but I need my sleep too. ...I'm rambling, sorry. I would start the letter anew, but I know if I tried, I would instead just go to bed, and I need to reply now; Cara wants to send a few letters to her sister in a bit).  
Where was I? Oh, yes. Your son. Our son. Anakin. I'm only barely eight months along, and I already can't wait for him to get out, for several reasons. I haven't seen my feet in weeks, and I long to sleep on my back or stomach again. I haven't done that in months. And to actually sleep through a night would be nice too, though I probably won't get that anyway when he's born; newborns are demanding, I heard. Oh, by the way, he is now thirty centimetres long and weights 1,9 kilogram, he's perfect, Enam says (as if I didn't know that already, but it's nice to hear it from a professional). He'll also turn upside-down any day now, in preparation of birth – though that will be a while yet.  
So. Where do I want to give birth? That is actually a good question; I don't know. At the beginning, the thought of giving birth to Anakin and raise him anywhere else than England galled me; that's where our heritage lays, it's been the home of the Malfoys (well, this part of the family at least) for centuries. But now that I've been in New Zealand for so long, I'm not sure; I could actually imagine giving birth to him and raising him here, now that I know I don't have to anymore. I don't really want to raise him here, though, if I can avoid it. I mean, I love this place, it's amazing, but it's also very, very secluded. It's not good for a child to always be alone; he needs a few other contacts than me (and you), some children at his own age. I read that it can really damage a child if they have little social contacts, and I don't want that. Never.  
I actually didn't really think about where I want to give birth; the thought that I could go back to England didn't really come up until you mentioned it. I simply don't know, I will have to think about it for a while, talk to Enam and Cara and all.  
But I am almost sure I won't raise him here. Oh, scratch that, I **am** sure. I don't want him to be a recluse, I want him to call rainy, cold England his home. New Zealand will probably be our Number One Holiday Place, but not our home.  
Well, I suppose that makes you happy, doesn't it? Coming to New Zealand would be a lot more difficult than coming over to Malfoy Manor, for several reasons that you know yourself and I thus don't need to put to words.  
I really am tired, I wouldn't drift off and ramble like that normally; please forgive me. I hope I am not confusing.  
The Weasleys. Well. My first thought when I read that wish of yours was "Over my dead body", you know the Weasleys and the Malfoys have never been on good standing. But then I thought about it, and well, it's also a known fact that the Weasleys and the Potters are on very good standing, and I can't really prevent him from seeing them – he is a half-Potter, after all. And I'm not even sure I want to, anyway. Sure, I may not approve of them (their manners, blah, I don't need to write that all down here, do I? Did I really just write the word 'blah'? Please kill me now, it won't be a loss, for that son of yours already sucked my brain out. Merlin. If you ever show this letter to anyone else I will be forced to explain to Anakin why I had no other choice but to kill is father.)  
Where was I? Oh, yes, the Weasleys. (My short-term-memory loss is your son's fault, too! Enam said so.) Well. They have many children, so that would certainly provide the contact with same age mates for him. And he wouldn't grow up there, so that's alright, I suppose. I can teach him the proper manners, and you can teach him the bad example of what happens when you have too many children, no money and no manners.  
I didn't really mean that; I was just being mean. Sorry.  
...Weasleys. Still. So, Anakin can come and visit them with you, I hereby declare. But I want to be there too, especially at first. It also depends on his age; I don't want him there without me when he is still young. Yes, you will be there, and you are his father, and you will hopefully have a strong bond (if you won't, you can shove off now. Yes, I mean that.), but a father-son-bond can never match the bond a child has with their birthparent. That works both ways, by the way. Maybe you understand.  
...talk about short term memory loss. What did I want to say? There is no use asking you as you'll not know, but... ah, yes, about that. I was a bratty little boy, I can admit that now. I am always all about manners and proper behaviour, very proud of my heritage, but I never showed any respect to that very heritage when I was little; I acted like a common bully. (Yes, I am using this muggle term on purpose.)  
I have learned from my mistakes and moved on in sixth year, and it seems like you are finally doing that, too. That's what is necessary for us to get along, and I expect – no, I demand – that the Weasleys do the same. If I ever hear that they have acted less than polite and respectful towards him, he will never go there again. I won't allow anyone to make him unhappy, not even your family.  
About my family visiting yours... I don't know about that. Yes, I can see that happening somewhere in the future, but I can't say it will be this year; I can't even say it will be next year. I am not saying it won't ever happen either, but first I need to give birth to Anakin and get used to having a newborn around, get used to you, get used to the situation, get used to England again. Only then, after everything has calmed down a little (though from what I hear, that will only be when Anakin moves out, if I am lucky), I can think about that. I won't make any decisions now.  
You should know, though, that I barely mentioned the Weasleys to the Gabriels. I didn't badmouth them or anything. I don't know if you thought I would, but well, I didn't. I will of course ask them, but not yet. A lot will depend on how we, you and I, stand towards each other, Anakin and our respective families.  
Uh, now I wrote you almost a novel and yet I claim to be tired!  
I'll go back to bed now. I swear, this son of yours will be one of the active sort. I can't wait.  
I hope you are well and don't mind this rant about myself and… I will not write 'blah' again. Fill the blanks yourself. Have you decided yet what to do with your life?  
And by the way, what did the Weasleys say to you waiting eagerly for the birth of your firstborn son, a Malfoy-Potter, that is still growing inside of me?  
Ah, I wish I could have been there to see the faces._

 _Draco_

 _PS: I almost forgot. Raleigh loves your photo (as if Cara didn't make enough of those already when you were here!) and has put it on her nightstand. I think she's developing a crush on you. Well, almost; she's already totally smitten with Anakin. Try not to die of heartbreak that your younger, more handsome son steals away a potential girlfriend. I WILL GO TO BED NOW. Bed. Yes._

 _~_

 _Dear Draco,_

 _Don't worry. I think your letter and your obvious tiredness and confusion were cute (and funny), but I won't tell anyone.  
About Anakin… well, that's awesome, I wish I could be there, just to hold you a little. You both.  
Well. I think our letters are growing long enough they need points for better structure, don't they? (And no, in case you think that now, I'm not saying this because you were a little confused/confusing in your letter; in fact, I think I was, as well.)  
1\. Weasleys. Their reaction? Well, it was rather funny, I think you would have laughed. They were, of course, dumbfounded. I mean they read the papers alright, but since I didn't say anything they apparently thought they weren't true (thank Merlin even Molly has learnt by now not to trust anything the papers say). Uhm, so I told them – Molly and Arthur and Ginny first, though that wasn't planned; they just happened to be there – and Ginny laughed. She apparently thought I was joking.  
Well, I wasn't, and long story short they are, while very surprised and visibly unable to quite grasp it yet, happy. I think. Molly and Arthur said so, and the others are in various stages of confusion and suspicion, the usual, you know. I wish they would stop, I mean it's not like you're some monster or something... I told them I was very proud to have a son with you (and that's true; I am. I couldn't imagine my son having a better parent; you so obviously care for him and went through so much to ensure he will be happy; it's admirable) and well, they will adapt. I mean, they will have to, won't they? I will not pretend you or Anakin aren't there, and if they can't stand that, then, well, I can't stand them.  
But that's only worst-case-scenario now; I should stop always being so defensive. They didn't do or say anything against you or me or Anakin.  
Ah, and just so you know, I left out the whole Delia-thing. I think Anakin's conception is not something that concerns them and, well, if anyone asks (I could just imagine! The twins most certainly will, if they think of it) I will tell them that. I mean, it wasn't really the best way to conceive a child, was it? And I don't mean the technicalities, they worked, but... I will shut up now and hope you won't be offended and know what I mean.)  
2 a) My job? Not-job? Future? Whatever you might call it. I have no idea. I now accepted a short-term job at the twin's joke-shop, but only to have something to do, earn some money (not that I need it... and I didn't say that to show off, I just... this is the right place to confess that I am a little tired as well, is it? The owls always arrive over night, and for some reason, they always wake me up. I don't know why I thought it was necessary to answer immediately, but well, I am, and it's too late to worry about that now.) Where was I? Unfortunately I am not pregnant and can blame my short-term memory loss on that... oh, yes. Well, I can leave whenever I want; I told them I might have to drop out quickly. You know, if you need me or anything. Do you even want me to be there for the birth? I mean, I would like to, I really would, but maybe you'll be uncomfortable or just don't want me there; that would be okay, too. Who will help you? Enam and Cara would be my guess, since you took them with you expecting to give birth in New Zealand.  
2 b) Your future. What are you going to do when Anakin is there and you have gotten used to having a newborn around? I mean I know that at first, a baby requires total attention, but after a while, you might find yourself with a little spare time at hand; what do you want to do then?  
I'm just curious, you know. I wondered.  
3\. Your/My/Our past. You are right, I think it would be best if we'd just let it rest, but I think it was important we talked about it, told each other our opinions. I mean, there is nothing to be done about it now, but it gives everything some kind of conclusion.  
…I kind of wasn't done with the Weasleys, I just noticed. So, back to 1. (there goes my structure) About Anakin and the Gabriels meeting them. Take your time. I am not pressuring you in any way, it's your son, your family, your decision. I just thought I'd let you know of my wishes so you can… well, so that you know them. Is all. And I didn't even think of you badmouthing the Weasleys to the Gabriels until you mentioned it. Don't worry, I know you have grown past that age.  
These letters are growing too long, don't you think? I'm losing my point(s).  
I hope you are sleeping better now or, at least, had a good night._

 _Harry_

 _PS: She is so cute. But don't worry, She is a little too young for me. I mean, an age gap of sixteen years? I could be her father. I don't think I want a girl anyway, besides, I think I'll... ah, scratch that. Crap, I'm horrible at the ink-erasing spell, or I would try it now, but I fear I would kill half the letter with that.  
PS²: I kind of wondered… do you have any pictures of Anakin?_

 _~_

 _Dear Harry,_

 _I am not cute. Raleigh is cute. Anakin is already cute, and he will be the sweetest thing either of us has ever seen when we can actually hold him in our arms (oh, beware the romance… I was forced to read one of Cara's romance novels, and it kind of blew my mind, it was so kitschy and cliché), but I am not.  
Though I might kind of like something warm in, er… here. Something that isn't a fire. Summer is slowly coming to an end here._

 _1\. Maybe you should send them one of the photos with you and me (and Anakin), what do you think? Just so they have it… well, not black on white, but you know what I mean. Preferably not one of the... well, you know what I mean. Just one where neither of us is sleeping._

 _I forgot to say it in the last letter, but I am not sorry about the – how did you name it? The Delia-incident? – well, that. I am not really sorry about that. I mean, at first I was horribly… angry, embarrassed, humiliated that the last chance I saw to get my (personal!) journal back from you was to use my body, and it was stupid and had I had more time to calm down I surely would've figured out a better solution (I don't work well under pressure), but now I think that was some kind of lucky accident. Something good, something amazing came out of something that first seemed like something I wanted to forget the second it happened, and now I am pregnant with a wonderful little boy. I mean, I can't really regret that, can I?  
About the technicalities. Well. You are endowed well enough, and it was… fine, I suppose, just… ugh, honestly, I have no idea why girls like sex. I mean, yeah, orgasm, hooray, but afterwards… as a man, it feels totally different, not just physically, but mentally. A girl has all these crazy hormones whizzing around, I am amazed they don't go batty. I can actually kind of understand now why some of them cry after sex, and that's not the pregnancy hormones making me weepy at the moment._

 _2 a) (I forgot to comment on how you so generously offered to use your prestige to my advantage in my last letter, so here I go.) So I have Harry Potter at my beck and call? How awesome.  
No, honestly, I am… grateful of that. I mean we both know I don't need it (I hope for your sake you do know that I am perfectly capable of providing safety for both me and my son), but it's nice to get it even though I don't need to, you know? Well, I am pregnant, so I have all these crazy hormones and emotions whizzing around (not unlike a girl), so I like feeling protected. Don't try to take advantage of me now; I think you just had to come over and haul me into your strong, manly arms and murmur that you will protect and love me forever and I will swoon right out of this ridiculous image.  
…yes. Moving on.  
Your job. I hope you aren't getting any serious brain damage there. But it's good you have something to occupy you; if you wouldn't, you'd think too much, and that's never good.  
Giving birth… Well, I think I will go back to England. Like, tomorrow. I talked to the Gabriels and they said that they had had enough holidays anyway, though they of course would have stayed as long as I needed, but they want to see their families more regularly again and all that. So, come tomorrow, your letters will take the normal way again._

 _What I also wanted to say but forgot to mention, which actually fits into 3. is that… well, you aren't or weren't arrogant, at least not in the way I used to be (or Snape). What annoyed me the most about you was that you were not all those things I taunted you with. I mean I could claim whatever I wanted, it would get to you, but it wasn't the same to make something up and to know it really was the truth, you know? Taunting you with Ginevra Weasley was actually the only thing I think I didn't (completely) make up. Kind of sad, actually. Good thing that's all over and done with, past we have gotten over and all that._

 _I skipped 2 b), my future. Well. That is actually a good question; I kind of got out of finding the answer to that by becoming pregnant. I might have to think about it later, but right now I think that at the beginning I'll just be one of those lazy stay at home parents that are always there. It's not like I can't afford it, and it's a good excuse, too._

 _You are right. These letters are growing too long, it's time we meet again, and this time we will actually have a conversation. I'll be in Malfoy Manor come tomorrow, just send a note when you intend to come; it's not like I have anything pressing to do._

 _Draco_

 _PS: Raleigh is a gift, she is. Any guy could call himself lucky if her eyes fell on him. But I agree, she's a bit young for you. It would be very creepy if you didn't think so.  
And you only made me more curious with this rambling of yours. I'll be nice and not ask, but I will find out what you meant sooner or later.  
PS²: At first I had no idea what you are talking about, but Enam and Cara explained it to me. So muggles make photos of their unborn children, do they?  
Wizards don't. We consider the time a baby spends in their birthparent's womb very intimate and private for both baby and carrying parent; nobody is to disturb it like that. It's just… private.  
I'm not offended that you asked, just don't ask again, please._


	31. Chapter Thirty: Finally Home

Draco sighed, looking around the Entrance Hall of Malfoy Manor. It looked exactly like he had left it – of course, time had been frozen here, in a way – even the smell was still the same. Slowly, he walked forwards, listening to the faint echo of his steps, knowing that in a year, he wouldn't walk here alone anymore – he would hear the tiny feet of his son running around, making small tapping noises like Raleigh. Something inside of him shuddered in pleasure and delight at that thought.

Yes. A lot had changed since he had last been here; none of his old feelings were left. He was happy, he realised with wonder, happy, and he didn't even know how or why – he just was.

Behind him, Boddy gibbered in delight that he was back; he wasn't the youngest anymore and didn't like change, and the Malfoy Heir – his master – leaving Malfoy Manor, most likely for good, had definitely been change. He wasn't making any noise, he had been trained to do better than that, but it was obvious that he was delighted. Every five minutes he offered him something to eat, or to sit down, or if he wished for anything else; Draco was slowly starting to get annoyed.

As if on a cue, he spoke up again. "Master really wants Boddy to do nothing for him?"

"Yes, thank you. But you could go check on every room whether there is any dust or the like; I want everything to be in perfect condition. I can't give birth in a place that is less than impeccable." Of course Draco knew everything would be fine; the master had been away, but that didn't mean the house-elves stopped working

"Yes, master!", Boddy squeaked, tears of happiness in his eyes, and he bowed and popped away.

Sighing in relief, Draco continued his slow inspection of the Manor.

It was cold outside, he hadn't walked the gardens yet, and he thought he wouldn't do so today, maybe not even tomorrow. He wasn't at all quick on his feet anymore, being only able to waddle anymore, and he was out of breath quickly. It was normal, yes, but that didn't mean it didn't hinder him or he had to like it.

Slowly, he walked up the wide steps to the first floor, where his room was. He had always wanted a room on the third floor, but his parents had denied him that wish because he would be too far away from them then, and because Draco had a tendency to go explore where a child shouldn't. When they had died and he had come back to find the Manor empty and yet still full of painful memories, he hadn't had the energy and heart to move.

Now, he was very glad he hadn't; the prospect of walking so many steps wasn't a good one. But maybe he would move to the fourth floor that was half attic, half rooms for guests that were never needed because there were never so many visitors at the Manor and renovate the rooms there, have some balconies built into the roof and create his and Anakin's own space inside Malfoy Manor.

Pondering that thought, he looked into this room and that; the rooms on this floor were mostly entertaining rooms, libraries, playing rooms for children and the like. When the whole Malfoy family came together, there were many rooms like that needed. On the outside, snow was on the windowsills, but inside, he could still feel the warmth of sun and smell the summer; Malfoy Manor had been literally closed off from time and would need a bit to acclimate itself now.

Just like Draco.

Finally, he arrived at the end of his journey for today; his room. It was exactly like he had left it, even the boots he had thrown out of his trunk at the last minute because he had figured they were too heavy were still lying around. He wondered why the house-elves hadn't picked them up, but it was probably for some sentimental reason. They were a little strange sometimes; he could just see Moonie or Boddy picking them up to clean the carpet and then put them down again, maybe as some kind of reminder that a few months ago, he had been there, and maybe he would come back.

He sighed. House-elves without a master were a sad thing, and he wished he could have taken all of them, but in the cottage hadn't even been enough work for two, and a house-elf that had nothing to do was worse than one whose master was away.

 _What will I do now?_ , he wondered, walking over to one of the tall, slim windows and looking out into the gardens. The snow was untouched and thick, thicker than anywhere else he had seen today from the window of his carriage. In the past, he would have been delighted and would have run out to ruin the perfect, sugary looking picture, and he still felt that urge, but he was physically unable to. Well, in a few days Enam, Cara and Raleigh would come over, and between them, they would achieve the same.

And maybe Harry would come and join them, too.

He hadn't heard from Harry yet, naturally. The letter he had written the day before had been unsent until today; it would have been illogical to send it from New Zealand and then go back to England; he himself would have arrived faster than the letter. So he had kept it in his pocket and had ordered Kibby, who had welcomed him at the Ministry, to send it with one of his owls. It was probably arriving right at this moment.

When would Harry visit? Tomorrow? Or would he wait a few days? Draco couldn't deny it, he had missed him, and he would really, really like to see him again. To be honest, he could barely wait and was just short of going to visit him himself, but he restrained himself. He didn't know where exactly Harry's flat was, and he couldn't very much walk over to the Weasley's home and ask them for the address, just like he couldn't walk over to that joke shop of the twins now in the hopes of coming across Harry.

 _Maybe Harry would like that_ , a tiny voice in the back of his head suggested, but Draco brushed that thought away by shaking his head. Maybe Harry _would_ like that, but Draco wasn't sure whether he was ready for that yet – whether Harry was ready for that yet.

Oh, who was he kidding; he could admit that wasn't entirely true, he was just using that as an excuse, but that was alright for now, he figured. He wouldn't rush into things, not even for the best of all reasons – not that he knew what reason would be best.

Anakin seemed to disagree and let his displeasure know with a kick into his bladder. Draco could swear the boy knew exactly where to kick, and when.

Sighing, he went to his bathroom. He was just washing his hands when his eyes fell onto the bathtub; his wonderful, awesome, big bathtub. A bath sounded wonderful now for his tired muscles; his back and legs were hurting, and he was exhausted even though the trip from New Zealand hadn't been that straining. But he feared he would fall asleep if he lay back in the hot, warm water and relaxed; not wanting to risk that, he decided he'd go to bed and have his bath tomorrow. And so he went about doing exactly that.

*

The next morning, he still felt tired when he woke up; Anakin had woken him up a few times, and his stomach was so heavy he couldn't really sleep comfortable anymore, and literally rolling from his left side to his right hadn't done much for his mood, as well. Feeling grumpy and moody, he called Cookie and asked for a selection of everything he liked nowadays, including a lot of chocolate and sweets. Then he ordered Boddy to draw him a bath; usually not something the house-elf did, but Draco felt he should give him something to do that involved him personally a little, to cheer him up and reassure him that Draco really was there. It wouldn't do to have a twitchy house-elf, after all, and anyway he held some remains of affection from his youth towards house-elves in general; they had always played games wit him when he had ordered them to, and they had always followed his every word. His little seven-year-old self had thought that was awesome, especially since his friends sometimes refused to do what he wanted.

So, Draco went into the bathtub, making sure the temperature wasn't too high – that could harm Anakin, which was a sad thing because Draco really liked hot baths – and sank into the soothing water. The potion he had Boddy add to it would also spare him of needing to lotion his body today; he was growing really tired of dry skin.

Yes, it was a good thing to be home.

When he finally stepped out of the bathroom, he felt a little fresher but had long learned he should avoid looking into the mirror, naked or not, because he not only looked like the full moon, he also had dark circles under his eyes and skin that was paler than necessary. Instead he dressed quickly and then went to read, for the first time in months, the Daily Prophet.

He shouldn't have. It wasn't very interesting – he wasn't up-to-date and all the news were more or less boring to him, and the headlines where about his being sighted in the Ministry again the day before. Speculations about the reason for his visit ensued, and whether it was really a visit or not, and who the strange people that had been accompanying him had been, especially the girl that they had seen him with before Christmas already.

Shaking his head in dry amusement, Draco folded the paper and put it away. Really, he had better things to do than read such gossip.

Well, it seemed like he indeed had. He had just pondered wandering down the second floor and continuing his inspection of the Manor – something that wasn't exactly necessary; he knew his house-elves worked perfectly well, but it would pass the time and helped him make up his mind about which room to make the nursery – when Kibby appeared with an owl that carried a letter for him. He hadn't ordered them to adjust the wards of the Manor yet; so far, nobody could get in. He would probably have to change that soon or he would get into trouble if the Ministry decided to pay him a visit, but with a flare of petulant anger, he thought that they could kiss his ass; if they wanted to meet him, they could do so tomorrow.

Not that they would, but he had felt safe here once before, and it hadn't done him any good. He needed to rebuild that trust he had had in the safety of his childhood home, and that would, unfortunately, take some time.

The letter was from Enam, informing Draco that they'd come over the day after tomorrow and chatting on about how they adjusted to home life again. Enam hadn't taken any new patients so far, and he wrote that he didn't intend to do so until after Anakin was born anyhow, but he was looking forward to being really busy again. He also asked for a firetalk this evening for Raleigh; the poor girl was missing him something awful and they'd have to talk about it when they met, Enam wrote.

After Draco had read the letter, he felt better without having known he hadn't felt good before and went into his writing room to reply.


	32. Chapter Thirty-One: Letting go of all I've held on to

Draco was having a breakdown from hell. It wasn't the almost usual bout of tears and desperation that he felt silly for later; he was messily, loudly sobbing into his pillow, unable to even form a coherent thought.

And he didn't even really know why.

Yesterday evening everything had been fine; he had had a firetalk with Raleigh and her parents, and then he had had a nice, warm bath. Afterwards, he had gone to his warm bed and, feeling very decadent, had had a late night meal in it before going to sleep.

Now this.

He didn't know what his problem was, he just knew that it was wrong; everything was so wrong, and yet it wasn't. He was alone, and that shouldn't be a problem because he had been used to being alone in 7th year and really in 6th year as well, during the war, but still he couldn't bear it suddenly, somehow. And he didn't understand it; he used to enjoy being alone. This was wrong, this was all wrong.

England was wrong.

Draco had no idea why, and he didn't care to find out right now. The only thing he knew was that he felt horribly burdened here; in New Zealand everything had been fine, he had been away and the weather had been nice and the house had been nice and he hadn't been alone, and, most importantly he had been _away_.

Away from England and all it entailed. It meant being in the papers, and not only knowing that, but reading it too, knowing everyone read that rot and a fair deal of people believed it, and he'd get to feel their opinion should he go out to, say, Diagon Alley… it was just too much, too much. He was pregnant with a little boy on the way, and how was he supposed to bring him up in this?

And then there was that. A little boy. A life, a real life. Naturally, he had been aware of that for a while already, but suddenly he felt totally overwhelmed – how was he supposed to manage this? How was he supposed to cope with his surroundings, with the after-effects of the war he still felt and saw and got from other people, with his life that wasn't even a real life yet, and a small boy he had to bring up? A small boy he had to teach manners, values, morals and facts to? A tiny mind, so fragile and easily influenced by everything Draco did?

Watching how Raleigh was brought up by Enam and Cara was all well and fine, but he knew it'd be very different if the small child was actually his responsibility. There'd be nobody he could drop Anakin off to when it all got too much, and even though he didn't like it, he knew he wasn't the most stable, responsible person on this planet.

What was he thinking, honestly believing everything would turn out well? Nothing he ever did turned out well. If at all, it turned out alright, but 'alright' wouldn't do with this. Alright was not enough for Anakin. He deserved everything and all he needed, and he definitely didn't need an unstable, irresponsible father who couldn't even manage his own life.

Faintly, he was aware of one of his house-elves popping in and squeaking something, but he really, really wasn't able to pay attention right now.

Cookie was standing there, eyes wide and trembling. Her Master wasn't feeling well, she could tell as much, but there was a visitor, so was what she supposed to do? Should she send them away? But what if Master was expecting them? He'd be angry and maybe sad then, and it was obvious he didn't need any more stress now. But…

With another hesitating glance at Draco, Cookie made her decision and popped away, unnoticed by the blond.

Harry entered Draco's room, a smiled greeting and explanation for his surprise visit already on his lips, but the second he spotted Draco on his bed, huddled in blankets so that only his blonde hair was visible and sobbing into his pillow, everything that had been on his mind vanished. He froze, but only for one second before he spurred into action, quickly striding over to the bed, calling Draco's name. The blond only reacted by burying his head deeper into the pillow and, worried, Harry slid onto the bed and made his way over to the mountain of blankets and pillow that was Draco. Pulling the blanket out of the way away a little so he could move closer, he firmly wrapped his arms around Draco and pulled him into his chest, hugging him tight. Draco went without fight, only stiffening for a second before actually leaning into him.

Harry's head spun with worry and fear. What had happened to get Draco into such a state? He had never, ever seen him cry before, despite the fact that there had been many reasons during the war. Feeling cold, he wormed his hand under Draco's pillow to feel for- yes, there was it. Anakin was alive and kicking, literally, so there couldn't be something wrong with him, could there? It had to be something else.

Strangely, that thought didn't make Harry feel much better.

"Draco?", he asked, tentatively. He was starting to get really, really worried. Never before had he heard Draco – or really anyone – cry like that, as if the world came crumbling down on him. And it actually had, before, and he hadn't seen Draco or anyone cry like that then.

Draco didn't reply, didn't react and, feeling completely helpless, Harry cradled him closer. Going by instinct and impulse, he tried to reassure Draco that he wasn't alone, that he, Harry, was there for him and wouldn't leave. Remembering how Ginny had held and reassured him when Harry had had his breakdown after defeating Voldemort once and for all, he wound his fingers into Draco's soft, blond hair, caressing and smoothing the strands. He also began to mutter little nothings, saying that he was there and wouldn't leave, but aware that what he actually said wasn't important, only the sound of his voice was.

And it worked. Draco calmed down, if only slowly, until he was just sniffing anymore, face still completely hidden in the pillow.

Harry made another attempt. "Draco?" He got a nod. Tiny, but something to go with. "Are you alright?" Right after he had asked that, he wanted to smack himself. Of course Draco was not alright. He was the opposite from alright. "Uhm, I meant… did something happen?" Draco hesitated, but shook his head, but Harry didn't feel relieved at all, only more confused. "Then… why are you upset?"

At first, it seemed like Draco wouldn't answer, but then he drew a shuddering breath, head still in the pillow. "I… everything is just too much!" Just saying that seemed to upset him again, and he started to shake. Harry tightened his grip. "What is too much?" When Draco didn't answer, he lowered his head until his mouth was near Draco's ear. "Draco, what is too much? Tell me, I want to help you."

"You do?" Draco's voice sounded small, sad and incredibly insecure. It made Harry's chest tight. "Why?"

"Because… because I don't like it when you're upset. I want you happy and snarky again, like you were when I visited you, or sleepy and confused like in that letter, or… really anything but upset."

"But… why?"

"I don't understand, Draco," Harry said, helpless. "Why would I want you unhappy?"

Draco was silent, reminding Harry that there had once been a time when he would not only have wanted Draco to be unhappy, but would have relished in it. But he didn't feel bad; that time was long gone, had made room for this, whatever it was.

"It doesn't hurt him," Draco said finally, voice still small and with a strange undertone.

Harry was confused. "Who?"

"Ani."

And Harry finally understood. "Oh. Oh, Draco. That's not why I want you happy at all. Do you really think I only care because of our son?" Draco shivered, but didn't say anything, which was answer enough for Harry. "Draco, when I ask you if you are alright, then I'm asking because I want to know if _you_ are alright, and not if Anakin is alright. I… you mean something to me, and not because of Anakin, but because of you. I really mean it when I say that you are awesome and that I admire you and your strength. I enjoy your company and talking to you, and I like you. A lot. And not because of the fact that you are carrying my – our – child. I realise that there is still a long way to go for us, but I want to go that way. I want to get to know you better until I know you inside out, and not because you surprise me or because you changed, but because I want to. And Anakin has nothing to do with it. Okay?"

For a while Draco kept still, silent, processing what Harry had said, but finally, he nodded and suddenly became soft and pliant in Harry's arms, letting go of the pillow to wrap one arm around Harry and bury his head into his chest. He was still holding the pillow with his other arm, but only to hide his face and head under it, not to shield himself from Harry anymore.

Harry sighed, relieved, and shifted his grip to hug both Draco and pillow.

Later, neither of them could tell how long they had been sitting like that. Draco was slowly becoming embarrassed for his breakdown even though a spark of the desperation he had felt still remained. Rationally, he of could suppose there was no reason for him to feel abandoned and that it were probably the hormones speaking, but he wasn't feeling too rational right now. But thankfully he didn't feel the urge to cry anymore either; in fact, here on his bed, with Harry holding him, he felt actually quite safe. There was a tiny voice in him saying that he shouldn't, that he should feel alright and safe on his own, but it was rather obvious that he didn't. And Draco was so tired of fighting anything, even for his own safety; he was tired of being strong.

"That's alright; everybody gets tired every now and then. It took me a while to learn that myself, but it's normal and nothing to be ashamed of." Harry's voice rumbled in his chest when he spoke, and only after he had finished did Draco realise he had spoken his last thought aloud.

He nodded. He knew that, but it had never been alright for him before. During the war he hadn't had the luxury of breaking down, and afterwards, when he had been shunned, his own pride hadn't allowed it, for he had known if he allowed himself to crumble, he wouldn't get up again.

But now, there was someone to catch him. During his other breakdowns, Cara and Enam had been there – at least when he had been in New Zealand. Before, he had been alone, just like he was now, and- that was the problem, he realised. When he was here, without anybody but house-elves for company, he felt horribly alone and unprotected, even though he wasn't anymore; not really. He was back to feeling nobody cared if he choked on his breakfast and died, and the rational knowledge that he wasn't didn't help much.

Harry shifted, and that brought Draco's awareness back to the situation he – they – were in. He knew he should probably stop it, for several reason, but he didn't want to, and in a bout of petulance, he pouted and snuggled closer as much as was physically possible, which wasn't much. But Harry shifted again and suddenly let go of him to grab his shoulders and push him back.

Draco stiffened. Oh no, he knew it, he had gone too far and now Harry would-

"Just a second," he heard, and Harry moved away from him, but didn't leave the bed. Draco hid his face in the pillow again, unable to look up and face the situation even though he knew he should. He felt Harry shift a little on the mattress, and then he tugged on the blanket. "Draco?"

Hesitating, but knowing he couldn't hide forever, especially not from Harry, and so he raised his head enough from the pillow to peek around for him. When he found Harry leaning against the headboard and pillows of his bed, looking at him softly, arms wide open, he knew he was an idiot. Not even hesitating a little, he let go of his pillow but kept his face down and crept over to where Harry was waiting.

He had enough of being cautious. Most likely he'd regret this later when it all came crashing down on them, but now, he found there was nothing better than lying with Harry.


	33. Chapter Thirty-Two: Made from Iron

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _We'd be so less fragile if we were made from metal and our hearts from iron and our minds from steel._
> 
> The Pierces – Three Wishes

_38 Weeks, 2 Days_

"Why won't you let me call anyone?"

Draco refused to answer. They had been over this again and again in the past couple of days, making him less and less comfortable with Harry's presence.

At first when Harry had declared he'd stay, one week ago after he had found him in his breakdown, he had been apprehensive. That had quickly changed to joy, though, when he had realised – not without some annoyance at himself, but what was he to do? – that merely knowing Harry would be there in a few hours made him feel a lot better. But after the novelty had worn off, Harry had stopped to enjoy the feeling of being needed and had quickly gone over to being annoyed.

Draco hated this. He didn't want to need Harry, he didn't want to need anyone, but he got panicky with the mere thought of being alone. It wasn't just that if anything happened to him, nobody would be there; his house-elves had been instructed what to do in case that occurred, and he and Anakin should be relatively safe. It was some unexplainable, irrational feeling that he strongly suspected had something to do with his pregnancy.

His pregnancy. Draco was in his thirty-eighth week, and he could not wait until this whole ordeal was finally over. He didn't even feel bad for thinking like that anymore; Anakin was fine now, only gaining weight, and Draco felt every gram in his back and feet.

They constantly hurt. Charms and massages helped, but not for long. His legs were swollen and tired, and he often forgot things. Harry would tell him he'd be gone for a while, and when he got back he found a panicky Draco who couldn't remember a thing, only knew that Harry was gone and he had false contractions, but you never knew if they were false until they vanished. Theoretically, he couldn't blame Harry for being annoyed; it was stressful, he knew that.

But he knew it first hand, and he had been going through it for almost nine months now, not merely a week, and that Harry dared to be irritated with him made him want to cry and scream in anger at the same time.

It wasn't as if Harry constantly snapped at him or something. In fact, he didn't do that at all, he was only a little snippy sometimes. But Draco knew Harry was annoyed and irritated with him; he could tell, and that Harry denied it only made him himself more annoyed with him.

He had known this was a bad idea.

The worst was, he didn't have any help. Cara's sister had had an accident and was in St. Mungo's lying in coma, and Enam and Cara spent their time split between sitting with her, trying to console her wife and watching Raleigh and Bia, Cara's niece. They had firecalled twice, asking if everything was alright, and Draco lied to them, not wanting to add to their worry even more. He would have offered to watch Raleigh to relieve them at least a little bit, but he knew he wasn't fit to take care of her at the moment, and they hadn't asked.

"Draco." He looked up to find Harry staring at him, and blinked. They had been in a conversation, hadn't they, and he had spaced out and forgotten about it, hadn't he? He had.

Harry sighed. "Look, I'll just call Molly, she-"

"No."

"Would you please listen? She has given birth to seven children, she has offered her help, and I know she could help you if you'd only let her-"

"No, Harry. I don't want her here. I don't want any Weasley here." They could be practically angels, he still wouldn't want them here, because the only face he had ever sawn from a Weasley was a hostile one, and he couldn't bring himself to trust them, especially not now.

Harry's face tightened. "Fine. Then Hermione. I know she'd be glad to help."

"No. Not her."

"Why not?" Harry was visibly growing frustrated.

"On general principle." The moment the words left his mouth, Draco knew Harry had misunderstood. He had intended to explain, because he was sure Granger hadn't mentioned the way she had treated his friendship at the beginning of their seventh year – as if it were something shameful that needed to be hidden – but when he saw Harry's face, he knew no explanations would get to him. Harry believed to know what Draco had meant, and nothing Draco said would convince him otherwise – and frankly, Draco was tired. He didn't want to explain; Harry should know him well enough by now to know there was more to it than old prejudices he had more than just publicly given up the moment he had officially declared his allegiance with Dumbledore's side.

But Harry didn't, and when he stood, eyes and face and voice cold, saying "Fine" in that clipped, angry tone he knew so well from past times, he wanted to cry.

When Harry turned and left he almost did, but there was a part inside of him that roared in anger, that refused to allow him to cry – not now, not like this, not because of Harry. It was like at the beginning of seventh year, exactly one and a half year ago. He couldn't cry, he wouldn't cry. He hurt, but that was no reason to allow himself to succumb to the pain.

Draco was strong. He had started this alone, and he could end this alone.

In a week, Cara's sister would be awake, and then either Cara or Enam would come and look after him. Though if she died, Draco of course would have to be fine on his own. He couldn't add to the burden they were already carrying right now.

He only wished he was stronger – just a little bit, just enough to be able to finally forget Harry. But all these years he hadn't been able to, he knew he wouldn't suddenly start now, especially not after this.

Two days later, Harry came back. "Draco," he said, sounding apologetic and nervous. "I'm sorry. Hermione told me what happened at the beginning of seventh year. That was not okay. I'm sorry for being angry with you."

Draco had put his book down and was now looking at Harry. He wanted to say "It's alright" and not be alone again, but that was only a tiny part of him – the rest of him was just tired. He knew if he did, they'd just have another fight in a week, and he was not willing to let that happen. So he nodded and said, "That's not enough" before turning back to his book.

The side of the room where Harry stood was still, he knew that. The rain pelting against the window seemed unnaturally loud, but of course it wasn't – that was just his imagination.

"Draco," Harry started after a while, sounding confused and hurt and maybe even desperate, but that was probably just wishful thinking. "What do you want from me?"

Draco dropped the book, looked up straight at the wall and thought, that's enough. He stood and turned to Harry, eyes steely and face cold. "What I want from you is not something you can give me, Potter." Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Draco didn't let him. "Theoretically, it was alright for you to be angry with me, because you didn't know what has happened between me and Granger. But actually, what you should be apologising for is not trusting me. The second you thought I was saying something I would have said three years ago, something anti-muggleborn, you turned away. You are obviously unable to take into account everything that has happened since then – _I denounced my family and everything I ever had for Dumbledore's cause_ , and not to save myself, but because I knew it was the right thing to do. And I lost everything but materials which, as you may know, are not as meaningful as some people make them to be. You should have thought of that. But it's apparent you are not able to adapt to the me I am now – to the person I grew to be when I started to think for myself. _You should have trusted me_ . You should know me enough by now, I thought, not to practically jump me in the face when I say something someone may interpret as fascistic. But it's apparent that you don't, and I am tired of fighting. I will not, _I will not fight for your trust_ . And ironically, I can't trust you anymore either now. I can't trust you to trust me, even if you tell me you do, because I trusted you before, and I was obviously mistaken. Go away now."

Harry looked at him, stricken, seeming like he wanted to say something, but in the end he just turned away and left.

Draco took several deep breaths to fight the dizziness and put a hand on his stomach, where Anakin was kicking, as if he were less than impressed with Draco for fighting his father.


	34. Chapter Thirty-Three: We can't get back again

_39 Weeks, 1 Day_

 _Draco,_

 _I… I don't know what to tell you. You are right, of course; everything you said is right. And I'm so sorry. I thought we could just forget our pasts, but it seems I'm… less adaptable than I thought. But Draco, I want to learn. I know I said this before already, and you gave me my chance already, and I ruined it. But I'll keep trying. I won't give up, Draco, I don't want to give up – not on you, and not on Anakin. I want to at least be friends with you if nothing else, and be someone for Anakin. A parent.  
Because you help me see clear and find the words when I alone am unable to. You remember what you wrote when I told you about how Hermione made me make that work experience in the greenhouse? Well, after I read that letter, I suddenly felt a lot better saying no to her when she came up with another idea of what I could do now.  
But I… I realise it's pretty selfish to say that. So far, you were the only one of us two who actually did something – you gave me chances, opportunities, so we could work on our friendship (if you can call it that – and I want to) and I just took them. You invited me into your life, and I willingly went, but I didn't really give anything back.  
I think it's time I do something. So, if you want to, if you want to give me another chance I… I'd like to ask you on a date. You can decide what kind of date. I thought we could just go a bit shopping, if you want to, and have hot chocolate and cake in that fancy cakehouse in Diagon Alley; you know which one I mean? Or, if you'd rather do something less public, we could skip the shopping bit and have cake at my place.  
So, what do you say?_

 _Yours,  
Harry_

 _~_

 _Harry,_

 _Fancy cakehouse, you say? You don't happen to be talking about_ C'est Sugre, _are you? Because if you are I may be convinced to agree, if you try a little harder._

 _Draco_

 _~_

 _Dear Draco,_

 _I hereby promise to pay for everything you'll buy, including the cake at_ C'est Sugre, _and I also promise to make sure that no reporters will bug us. Furthermore I will grovel at your feet and do everything you want me to._

 _Harry_

 _~_

 _Harry,_

 _Now you have me curious. But really, that's what you wanted, wasn't it?  
Pick me up at two o'clock tomorrow, and bring enough galleons to hold your promise._

 _Draco_

 _P.S: cute pun about Rita Skeeter, by the way._

 

Draco was sure he was making a mistake. He was _sure_ of it.

But he couldn't resist after receiving Harry's letters. First the one where Harry had invited him for hot chocolate instead of tea, as was tradition, showing perhaps unintentionally that he remembered Draco didn't drink tea anymore. And then he had said he'd do everything Draco wanted, showing both his willingness to do everything so Draco would forgive him, and his trust in him – he trusted Draco not to ask him to do something he wouldn't want to do. Things he felt uncomfortable with, maybe, but not something that went against his principles.

Draco had been intrigued, especially because he knew Harry hadn't one calculating bone in his body. He had thought about their situation a lot and, taking everything into account, it was understandable that Harry had a hard time trusting people, especially those he had a history with of the extend theirs was – and, frankly, apart from Snape maybe, Draco was the only one who did. And he couldn't imagine Potter trusting Snape ever, in any situation, and that had made him reflect their situation again. Maybe he had been a little too hard on Harry.

No, he hadn't, he knew that. But he could be too hard on him now, and he didn't want to. He wanted this to work, and it wasn't as if he hadn't expected one of them to slip up and fall back into old habits. Their past wasn't to be forgotten so easily.

Besides, he wanted to go public with Harry. He had enough of ridiculous rumours in the _Prophet_ , enough of whispers behind hands about him and Potter and what had happened, had Draco hexed the poor boy? He had enough of being the bad guy, even if he was the poor, slighted bad guy. Actually, he had enough of being anything and had taken to not reading the Prophet again and instead stuck to the more political papers. They were boring, but he wanted to read something during breakfast, and gossip papers weren't exactly his taste.

This morning, though, Draco hadn't read anything. He had almost skipped breakfast altogether, but he was a little too hungry for that, and the fact that he was eating for two wasn't something he'd forget anytime soon either. But he hadn't been able to concentrate on anything for long enough to read, so he had let his thoughts run crazy, only trying not to freak out too much.

And after breakfast he had started to rummage through his walk-in cupboard, trying to find some that would look good, until he finally settled for light blue ones with darker blue embroidery, thinking of how well they'd fit with his white winter cloak. After he had instructed Cookie to change them so they'd fit him better, he had gone to take that bath he had Kibby draw him. Then he had stared into the mirror, resigned to the fact that he was looking bloated like a stranded wale, and made sure he looked otherwise stunning. Well, as stunning as one could look in their ninth month. Which wasn't much, he figured, but there was nothing he could do about it until Anakin decided he had had enough of being confined and announced his wanting to get out, and from what Enam had said, that was still more than a week away. Probably more like three, even though in a little over a week he would be forty weeks pregnant.

He managed to turn out looking acceptable. His hair was okay after Cookie had cut it, his skin was flawless, and the shadows under his eyes weren't too pronounced. The rest of him would be hidden under robes, thankfully. He didn't want anybody to see his legs unless it was absolutely necessary.

At six minutes to two, Boddy announced Harry's arrival and, dryly noting that he was ready even though Harry was early, Draco pulled on his cloak, hat, shawl and mittens. The temperature had dropped below freezing again after a short period of warming up, even though it was the end of March already. Harry was similarly attired, he noted, apart from the hat – his ears were red and probably cold, but he didn't appear to notice when he turned around and smiled widely at Draco.

"Hey," Harry said, looking up and down at Draco. "You look good."

"Thanks." Draco replied dryly. "Why are you not wearing a hat?"

"What? Uhm, I forgot, I suppose."

Draco shook his head. "Your ears will freeze. Cookie? Bring Harry one of my hats." Quickly glancing at Harry and taking in his olive cloak with black lining, he added "the black furred one, I think."

"Draco, that's really not-"

"Shut up. It's not like I'm giving it to you, you'll only borrow it. And I don't want to listen to you whining that your ears are cold in half an hour." Well, that wasn't exactly it, but Draco wasn't willing to explore his insistence Harry have not cold ears, much less explain it. Especially not since it was more strategy than anything else. This whole date was a test, and he was taking in each of Harry's actions and reactions.

Cookie brought the hat, Harry pulled it on and blushed when Draco reached to straighten it. Then, acting as if nothing had happened, he pulled Harry towards the carriage Kibby had waiting for them. They climbed in, Harry giving Draco a hand, and made a little small talk on the way to London, though they quickly ran out of things to talk about, as neither of them read the papers and they hadn't exactly the same friends to talk about. And at first that was alright; the silence wasn't too uncomfortable. But Harry was more or less obviously watching him with a slight blush, which caused Draco to blush, and, scowling because he felt like a stupid teenager, Draco settled for looking out of the window at the blurry landscape, pretending he didn't notice anything. He was quite relieved when they arrived in front of the Leaky Cauldron and hurried inside, making sure no muggle noticed Draco's condition, though they'd probably just think he was fat, Draco thought with a grimace.

Inside Harry put a hand in the small of Draco's back, apparently not really on purpose, because he quickly turned his head and smiled shyly when Draco didn't brush him away. Then he turned around again, nodded at Tom and ushered Draco through the pub and outside again, and then they were standing in Diagon Alley.

"Alright, where do you want to go?"

"Flourish and Blotts," Draco decided quickly. He wanted a few new books – sure, he had a whole library at home, but he wanted something new, something entertaining, not the decades old books at the manor.

"Okay." Harry offered him his arm, and with a glance at him, Draco took it and let himself be led – but only because being as highly pregnant as he was meant that his balance was slightly thrown. Also, he wasn't really able to walk quickly, and walking slowly while hanging on someone's arms felt better than walking next to them and trying to keep up because they weren't used to his pace.

Diagon Alley was a little crowded as usual, but people made room for them, and many smiled or nodded at Draco. Slightly flushed, he had to acknowledge that Enam had been saying the truth when he had told him that people would react positively to him; Draco had doubted that because he was Draco Malfoy, after all, son of Lucius Malfoy, but Enam had only shaken his head. "You're pregnant," he had said as if that was enough. But seeing their reactions now, he supposed it really was.

But Harry apparently hadn't expected that, because after a while he leant close to Draco and whispered into his ear, "Why are they all moving out of our way? It seems like they're avoiding us, only they're smiling, so it doesn't seem like they really are…"

"It's because I'm pregnant, Harry," Draco explained, guessing that wasn't enough, and he was right, because Harry furrowed his brow in confusion. "A baby is very precious in the wizarding world, especially an unborn baby, and that's why the parents, the birthparent in particular, are precious too."

"Hm," Harry made. "I never knew."

"Well, I don't suppose you've had much contact with pregnants or babies yet."

"Oh, no, I have. Fleur gave birth to her and Bill's baby around five months ago. That kind of opened my eyes. You know, to see her together with Bill, and with Fleur…" Harry's voice faded, and Draco was silent. He knew that if he had had a choice, Harry wouldn't ever have wanted him, Draco Malfoy, to carry his baby, and that they'd probably never be a real family like the Weasleys – any Weaslyes – were, but it was way too late to worry about something like that, and they'd have to make do with the situation.

At Flourish and Blotts they parted ways; Draco strolled through the shop, picking up books with relish and lining them up on some table for Harry to levitate when he'd be finished. And, to his credit, Harry's eyebrow twitched only for a second when he saw the books – everything from romance to crime novels to professional literature – and Draco didn't say anything when he saw the books Harry had chosen – childrearing, three of them – yet.

After that, they went to "that fancy cakehouse" where Harry paid for Draco's donauwelle with clotted cream and a few éclairs for himself and hot chocolate with whipped cream for both of them; they settled into a nice corner that secluded them from the eyes of the other customers. Harry sat next to Draco instead of opposite him and they talked about New Zealand and what other places they had seen or planned to see in the future. Draco noticed that more often than not, Harry subconsciously said "we" instead of "I" and tried to pretend the warm flutter he felt in the pit of his stomach for that came from Anakin moving. Harry also asked about baby shopping – unnecessary, because Draco had everything Anakin might need from when he himself had been a baby or from shopping trips in New Zealand with Cara – how the nursery was going – great; he'd had the house-elves paint the walls pink with nice, colourful flowers dotted tastefully around furniture – and he, after a questioning glance, put his hand on Draco's stomach for the rest of their talk. Furthermore, he paid for Draco's smooth elderberries jello with vanilla sauce, and then for a bowl of sugared strawberries, with vanilla- and chocolate-flavoured whipped cream.

And then he asked if he could kiss Draco.

Rather startled, Draco put his spoon down and blinked; he had expected anything but this. Harry was returning his gaze with steady, calm eyes, their earnestness only betrayed by the slight flush in his cheeks. Still feeling a little flummoxed, Draco nodded slowly and got a slow, somehow beautiful smile in return. But instead of leaning in to snog him, as he had expected, Harry simply but his hands on Draco's cheeks, thumbs featherly caressing his cheekbones and small finger fluttering over his jaw. Slowly, very slowly he leaned in, eyes never leaving Draco's until the very last moment when they fluttered shut. The moment Harry's lips touched his, Draco's eyes fell closed on their own accord as well, and he sighed at the tender, precious little kisses Harry's warm lips bestowed upon his. And then, just as Draco was about to reciprocate and let everything turn into a little bit more, he felt Harry sigh against him and then he pulled away without letting go of his face.

A little confused and a little enchanted, Draco opened his eyes. Harry was looking at him, flushed and with bright eyes. "We'll work out," he whispered and again, a little louder, "We'll work out."

Draco knew he rationally had no reason to, but somehow, he believed him.

 

 _Ende_

 

A man travels the world over in search of what he needs and returns home to find it.

George Moore


	35. Epilogue: Lay down your Arms

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title inspired by the same-titled song by Flowers From The Man Who Shot Your Cousin.

_Nine Weeks Later  
Six Weeks, three days_

Draco, somewhat torn between horror and fascination, stared at the crooked, tiny house that looked like the charms – that clearly were the only thing that kept it from falling apart – had to be renewed every three hours lest they fail. He couldn't imagine anyone living there, let alone a family of nine persons, seven of them children prone to magical accidents. But really, what had he expected? His father had told him the Weasleys were incredibly poor. He just apparently had not enough imagination to visualise a pureblood family that was _that_ poor. Not that he had ever bothered to try before; he only realised now that if he had, he wouldn't have managed to imagine something that incredible. And he didn't mean that in the positive way.

His knuckles turned white on the grip of the pram, and not for the first time he wondered what the hell he was doing. Looking up and down the thing that barely deserved being called "house", he shivered and almost turned around to get back into the carriage and drive home. This had been a mistake, clearly. He hadn't expected this – he didn't know what he had expected – when he had called Harry. Why was he here again?

Right. Because he knew he couldn't keep Anakin cooped up in the Manor forever and had figured he better start early before he was too tense to be able to anymore. Walking the Manor gardens with him didn't count, though he had done so often ever since Enam had declared them both fit to face the world again three weeks ago. So when he had talked to Harry on this strange muggle device, fellytone or something, he had given in and asked him if he was up for a visit.

It was all Harry's fault, Draco decided. Yes. If Harry hadn't been so happy and enthusiastic and had invited him over to "The Burrow" as, apparently, the home of the Weasleys was called – how fitting – then he would have never really considered it. Thankfully he hadn't been totally brainless and told Harry he'd think it over and not to tell anyone he might be coming over; if Harry had announced his impending visit he couldn't back down on his decision anymore. Besides, he was sure that, despite Harry's insistence on the contrary, the Weasleys wouldn't be exactly thrilled to see him.

Draco was just about to turn around when he paused. He wasn't _scared_ of them, was he? Of course not. They were Weasleys and clearly outnumbered him, but he had some kind of weapon – Harry, apart from his own wand of course – that he knew would protect him and that the Weasleys wouldn't attack. Besides, he had a baby, and quite obviously, Weasleys loved babies, or they wouldn't have made so many of them. If they weren't so horrible gullible and _good_ Gryffindors, Draco would think they would have made some more and killed them when they got into the age where they quit being cute and started being annoying.

Well, Weasley babies did that. His own wouldn't ever become really annoying, apart from tiny moments that were normal for children. He knew for a fact that he had used to annoy his father endlessly – he had done it on purpose, loving the creased eyebrow and long-suffering sigh of him when he asked too many questions, or decided to draw pictures on the walls with the lovely, permanent rainbow-coloured ink of his mother, or make mudcakes on the Persian. That was normal for children and he was actually looking forward to such moments with Anakin.

But that wasn't the point here. The point was, he wasn't going to back down from the challenge – he had decided to go into the (quite literally, seeing as they were all Gryffindors) Lion's den, so he was going to go in there. If he didn't, it'd take twice as much courage to leave the Manor the next time; besides, Harry would be disappointed. He had been so wonderful ever since he had come crawling back, he deserved some kind of reward. Draco was sure that without Harry's not always quiet, but still unwavering support, he would have had at least two breakdowns until now – not counting the birth, which had been bloody, painful and relieving, had left both his and his son's throats raw and sent them both to two days worth of sleep, only waking up for food or the loo. But Harry had been there for both of them for the whole first week – he hadn't left even once – and even afterwards he more lived at the Manor than anywhere else. And he slept in Draco's bed; Draco wasn't really sure if it was because he was there or because Anakin was there but guessed it was probably a mix of both.

Anyways, Harry hadn't said anything about bringing Anakin to the Weasleys; he hadn't even asked if Granger and Ronald could see him, but with Draco's permission he had made countless of photos which he had in his enthusiasm probably thrown from the rooftops in Diagon Alley or something.

Well. Not exactly. Actually he had told Draco which photos – three – he had given whom – the Weasley parents, Granger and Ronald. Interestingly, the papers hadn't printed a peep about either Harry or Draco, apart from the traditional ad which announced Anakin's birth. It had been plain; only one line which said _Today, the fifteenth of April, Anakin James Malfoy was born_ . Usually Malfoy births were announced in a fancier fashion, but that had felt silly and besides, Draco had not felt like publicly confirming any rumours. Harry said the _Prophet's_ speculations were funny when they weren't annoying or even horrifying, and had in the past couple of weeks sometimes hidden the paper from him. Not that Draco would have read it anyway, but that behaviour of Harry's made him itch with curiosity, and after he had warned him that he was only achieving the opposite, Harry had taken to trying to pretend everything was normal. He was a bad actor, but Draco let him believe he fell for it. He liked to keep his little secrets, especially since Harry kept his secrets as well; he still hadn't revealed to Draco how he had managed to keep the reporters away from them for their first date – and didn't that sound ridiculous, a first date in his ninth month? – and Draco was starting to believe he was going to be stubborn about it and really not tell him ever. Which only meant he'd try harder, of course.

He took a look at the clock and sighed. If he'd go inside, he'd have to do so now; in half an hour it was time for Anakin's next bottle and he wanted to be either at home or inside for that, not outside or in the carriage. Certainly he didn't intend to let it slide; he always gave Anakin his bottles at the same time which was less stress for both of them seeing as Anakin didn't have to scream to get it and he didn't have to be woken up by screaming, or get interrupted when he was busy. Not that he was really ever _that_ busy, but that wasn't the point.

Throwing one look back at the carriage which was waiting enticingly just outside the Weasley's home wards, Draco sighed and pushed Anakin's pram towards the house.


End file.
